


Time For a Change

by corvusdraconis, Dragon_and_the_Rose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 03:02:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 97,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14632731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvusdraconis/pseuds/corvusdraconis, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_and_the_Rose/pseuds/Dragon_and_the_Rose
Summary: [HG/SS] [AU] The world hasn't been right since Albus Dumbledore somehow survived the cursed ring Horcrux. Now Dumbledore has forced Severus between a rock and a hard place. Can he kill the only woman who has ever truly loved him, or will he refuse and die himself? (COMPLETE)





	1. Dystopia

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally published on fanfiction dot net 3/3/2016 and finished 5/12/2018. It was published to A03 in its entirety all in one go.

**Summary:** [HG/SS] [AU]The world hasn't been right since Albus Dumbledore somehow survived the cursed ring Horcrux. Now Dumbledore has forced Severus between a rock and a hard place. Can he kill the only woman who has ever truly loved him, or will he refuse and die himself?

 **A/N:** Uh… this first chapter is a little… emotional. Bring tissues just in case.

 **Beta Love:** The Dragon and the Rose

* * *

**Time for a Change  
**

**Chapter 1**

**Dystopia**

The air in Spinner's End was unusually warm and an almost cheery sort of glow came from the crackling hearth. Books lay scattered about here and there, but Severus knew each one and exactly which page it was turned to. A soft breeze came in from the cracked kitchen window, smelling of the salty sea, thanks to an air freshening charm combined with a scent diffuser to cancel out the oily factory stench— it was Hermione Granger's Master's project. Thanks to her, the common folk could now make their homes smell like a tropical paradise or a blooming garden of sweet pea blossoms depending on their individual desires. St Mungo's was even using the charm to make the scent of diffused medications more pleasurable for their patients. For the first time in decades, Severus didn't cough when he came home, all thanks to Hermione Granger.

 _ **Master**_ Granger.

She was her own master now. Her time as his apprentice had long since passed, but they had remained close and thick as thieves. His survival of the Second Wizarding War had been all her doing, no thanks to Albus. Albus Dumbledore had been entirely too busy saving his own skin from the curse that had very nearly killed him. Somehow, Albus had managed to stave off Death, and no one but Severus knew just how close to death the old man had truly been.

Albus had always held his secrets close. Only Severus knew, and that wasn't because Albus had been inclined to tell him. It was because he required Severus to stave off the curse on the ring Horcrux. Then, on the night that Severus had "killed" Albus, the old wizard had miraculously risen from the grave like the Christian Jesus, uncursed and showing no signs of his recent ordeal.

Somehow, the old goat had used Severus' killing curse to convince the curse that he actually _was_ dead and it had simply dissipated into thin air. Then, once it did, he was free to come back to life, every it as annoying and meddlesome as ever. Bothersome old man.

Severus looked at the stack of newspapers on the side table and flinched.

Hermione Granger Found Guilty of the Murder of Auror Tichus McDunnahey: Hit Wizards On the Case

Tichus McGunnahey Murdered: Last Hope for Peace Between Warring Pureblood Families Dies With Him

Attempted Murder of Albus Dumbledore Blamed on Hermione Granger! Hero and Auror Harry Potter Refuses to Comment!

Hermione Granger Judged Too Dangerous to Apprehend Alive! Public Outcry for War Heroine's Blood!

Weasley Family Disowns Hermione Granger! Weasley Matriarch Swears "No One Who Attempts to Harm Albus Dumbledore is Welcome in My Home"!

War Hero Ronald Weasley Confesses: I Never Loved or Wanted to Marry Granger, She Just Went Mental After the War!

Master Hermione Granger Brings New Level of Comfort for Those Suffering at St Mungos!

Severus Snape, Ex-Death Eater Turned Hero Thanks to the Efforts of Harry Potter, Returns to Teaching

A large stack of clippings lay on the table, and Severus felt a tightness in his chest that he could not deny. Hermione had always kept such meticulous records of everything. In the chest he kept in his attic could be found journal after journal of research notes. Potions, charms, curses, counter-courses— all of her work lay within, hidden away in the one place she knew it would be safe: with him.

Because Hermione Granger had been marked for death.

Yet Hermione Granger was perfectly innocent. He knew that in his heart, damn all the alleged evidence to the contrary. And damn the opinions of the blind, deaf and dumb bleating sheep that passed for today's wizarding public.

No one would ever believe him, an ex-Death Eater, no matter how often Harry Bloody Potter sang his praises.

" _You have your orders, Severus," Albus had told him. "We cannot afford to play favourites just because she was once your apprentice."_

" _She is innocent, Albus!" Severus had protested. "You_ _ **know**_ _this!"_

" _I fear what I believed I knew about the girl is not what she has subsequently proven herself to be, Severus. I promised the Minister I would do my part to keep her from murdering any other innocent people. You, Severus, will remember your vow."_

_Severus tightly clenched his jaw and his hands. "Yes. Sir."_

" _That's a good boy," Albus tutted, sucking vigorously on his lemon drop. "I will have a new assignment for you when you return."_

_Severus swept from the Headmaster's Office, his face as hard and cold as ice._

Severus walked up the creaking staircase, comforted by the signs of repair that he and Hermione worked on together. She had helped him patch the holes in the walls and then repaper them. She had fixed the stairs and railing so it didn't threaten to give out when one so much as touched it. She had dragged him through a Muggle store, looking for the perfect fabrics with which to make the curtains, and then, while he was reading, she would sew them by hand. She said it was a nostalgic sort of cathartic bliss being able to use her hands just like her mother used to.

Severus had cleaned up the kitchen, fixing the pot-bellied stove and the kitchen counters, cabinets, and drawers. He polished the silverware until they could have blinded any criminal who foolishly thought to try their hand at robbing Spinner's End. Hermione had found it all terribly amusing as she picked up a spoon and used it as a compact mirror ala Lavender Brown, bouncing her curls with her hand as though she had just returned from the beauty salon. It was enough to make Severus' stomach churn, but then Hermione would laugh and stop her silly little farce. And all would be right with the world again.

As master and apprentice, she had become a permanent fixture in his life, and when she had achieved her own mastery, she had chosen not to leave. They had, despite it all, remained just as close as before. Severus finally admitted to himself that a part of him never wanted to see her go off to find her own place in the world.

Hundreds of places pleaded for her to come teach, develop new charms, help those in need, but all those grand offers came to a screeching halt when she had been framed for murder. Now, even the youngest witches and wizards dreamed of bringing the infamous Dark Witch Hermione Granger to justice. The one million galleon reward for proof of her death didn't help much.

Harry, her supposed staunch ally, had turned his back on her, saying he couldn't in good conscience know where she was and not come to apprehend her. He _was_ the head Auror, after all. Ronald, of course, didn't need any encouragement to seek and apprehend her. One million galleons on offer saw Ron searching high and low for his former best female friend, eagerly anticipating the day he could walk into the Ministry with Hermione's head clutched in his hands. What was over a decade of friendship compared to a fat sack of gold galleons?

_Remember your vow, Severus._

_Shut up!_

Severus walked to the old, worn door in the back to the master bedroom. He had given it to Hermione while he had remained in his old room. There were too many memories of Tobias, his horrible, abusive father, beating his mother in that room for him to even consider sleeping in there. After a few years, however, he realised that he had new memories, good memories to replace them with— those of Hermione sleeping there.

She had made it over into her apprentice's quarters, filling it with books, tables, and a few cauldrons. She had a charms building circle and a formal magical binding circle for spellcrafting. He would bring her tea there, admonishing her for not sleeping enough. Her work would suffer, he had told her. She would make mistakes if she didn't sleep. All of which was true, at least on paper, but really he didn't know how to be completely kind without some sort of remark of what she was surely doing wrong. Hermione had said she would wonder if was really him if he behaved any other way.

She knew him far too well.

Sometimes the roles would be reversed, and she would bring him the tea and sandwiches and proceed to scold him for falling asleep on top of his research, and he would snap at her in irritation only to see her smiling warmly back at him. Somehow, she had forgiven him his past transgressions against her. Somehow, she had forgiven him his bad habits, quirks, automatic snark, and viciously defensive rancor. Even more strangely, she had chosen to spend her days with him rather than making her way out in the world and building a name for herself outside of the neatly labelled box of former war heroine.

Maybe he _should've_ encouraged her to leave. Perhaps, had she done so, she wouldn't have ended up in the unthinkable situation she was in right now.

But, when it came right down to it, Severus knew the truth. He didn't ever _want_ her to leave. He wanted to see that smile she had for him every day for the rest of his life.

But come the morning, he would never see her wonderful smile again. No matter what happened, either he would die refusing Albus' orders via his unbreakable vow or he would be forced to murder the only person who had ever given a damn about him, because his master had bade him to do so.

He had no doubt whatsoever that Albus knew damn well that Hermione was innocent. Yet, still, he had given the order to his indentured servant to take Hermione Granger's life.

"I'm glad it's you," Hermione voice said, heavy with an infinite weariness. She looked at to him from where she was writing at the desk. "Better to end peacefully at the hands of a true friend than leave the world at the hand of a greedy stranger."

"Hermione," Severus said her name painfully as he closed the gap between them. He wrapped his arms around her as he pressed his nose into her voluminous hair. He shuddered against her.

"We knew he would send you, Severus," Hermione said. "We knew the very moment the murder hit the papers." She rubbed her thumb tenderly against his pale cheek. "I might have gone down fighting had it been anyone else but you."

Severus looked at her with eyes full of emotion, his face lined with all the things he wanted to say. To her, his Occlumency was useless. She could read every tell far better than Albus or any Dark Lord ever fancied they could. She could, he knew, because she genuinely _cared_.

"We've lived a good life, Severus," Hermione told him. "You and I against the world for a time. I am honoured that you could share it with me."

"Please," Severus pleaded. "Run."

Hermione just shook her head. "I will not condemn you to death," she said, her chin tilted up in a hint of the stubbornness of her old teenage self. You have survived so very much. Perhaps, I should never have lived. Perhaps, Bellatrix should have killed me at Malfoy Manor. Or Dolohov in the Department of Mysteries. A hundred, thousand deaths I could have had. My time with you, Severus, was beyond price. You are a survivor, and I— I am just a stupid girl, a know-it-all who was too stubborn to leave you alone when you so desperately tried to push me away."

Severus pressed his forehead to hers, a thin line of salty tears running alongside his nose and down against her cheek.

"I'm so sorry, Severus," Hermione whispered, pressing her small nose to his. "I'm sorry I never listened. You told me what would happen if Albus found out there was anything or anyone who could distract you from the 'work' you do for him, but I couldn't leave you. I was too selfish and blind to give you up."

Severus pressed his palms to her soft cheeks. "You were worth it," he choked out a sob. "Do you hear me, Hermione? You were so worth it. Every day. Every single moment. Every argument. Every celebration. For once in my life, I _knew_. I knew what it was to be forgiven. To have someone give a damn, to care about me. Like I actually meant something to someone."

Hermione touched his neck where one very homicidal magically-enhanced snake had tried to take him out. "I wish I could somehow be there for you until the end. I have dreamed of what it would be like. Traveling the world. No cruel, unfeeling masters to yank you back to their chosen path like a disobedient dog. Just us. Seeing the pyramids, watching whales… Minerva is there too. Alive. Beautiful. Laughing at us. Celebrating with us. Our children call her grandma. Her face shines like the sun. You would always be standing there in the door with a coffee in one hand and a tea in the other, holding them hostage until I promised to make you your favorite breakfast. I wonder what it would be like if my parents were still alive. My father would drag you down to his man cave and force you watch political debates and talk about world issues. My mother would spoil you with food and at the same time force you eat pickled beets because they are good for you. The look on your face as you tried to be polite—" Hermione closed her eyes, the tears flowing heavily now.

Severus fell to his knees as he pulled something out from his trouser pocket. A thin band of gold that shimmered with tiny white sapphires was clutched between his fingers. "This was my mother's, and before her, it was her father's. It is said, when someone of the Prince line truly loves someone and they do in return, the ring will alight upon their finger and bring light unto darkness when all other lights go out. It also said it cannot be removed until they get married and have a child, but I can't personally vouch for that. My mother gave it to me instead of my father. She said, when she was married, she didn't want magic telling her who was right for her." He looked down and then back up into her eyes.

"Hermione, will you take my ring? Will you allow me the shared dream— a moment when you could be mine?" Severus flinched as Hermione placed her hand over his.

"I am already yours, Severus," Hermione admonished. "I have been for a very long time now. Through many sleepless nights over cauldrons and groggy mornings. I would gladly wear your ring, Severus, but you do not need a ring to capture my heart."

Severus looked down and saw the glittering band had found its way around Hermione's ring finger as though it had never been anywhere else. A soft cry of mingled wonder and pain filled his throat.

Hermione pulled his head close and gently pressed her lips to his for the first time. "Make love to me, Severus. May the last thing I know be the warmth of your arms. No cruel taskmasters. No Dark Lords. No dead friends. No betrayals. Just you and me, my love."

Severus breathed heavily and nodded numbly, pulling her out of the chair and to the nearby bed. His lips covered hers as bodies moved together in unison, struggling to make up for all of the time they had lost and now would never have. He worshipped her body and soul, slowly, tenderly bringing her to the brink and back, staring into her shimmering eyes as he saw her reach the final point of brightness where it spilt over into him. She clung to him tightly, whispering his name with breathless, undeniable love.

As he lay beside her, panting softly into her ear as he heard her breathing even out and deepen, knowing she was slowly slipping off into sleep, he prayed that this moment would somehow never end. He begged whatever greater power that might exist and actually be listening to tell him that his vow to Dumbledore had miraculously been broken by his pseudo-death. He wanted to wake up to find her next to him for the rest of his life. He wanted to see the glow in her eyes as they became one every time the sun rose and set.

"I love you," he whispered, the tears rolling down his nose. "Hermione."

He couldn't bear to sleep, not on this night. He listened to her breathe instead until the dim rays of the sun rose and began to peek through the half-drawn curtains. He stared at the glimmering band around her finger. Could he truly kill the only one who loved him enough to invoke the magic of the Prince family heirloom? Even if it was to save her from a cruel and agonizing death at the hands of a stranger, a hit wizard, or even a former 'friend'?

As the sun warmed Hermione's back, she stirred, staring up into his fathomless black eyes with all the love and forgiveness he could ever ask for. She said nothing, but she delicately placed something into his hand and slowly guided it upward.

His wand.

"I love you," she whispered, pressing the wand tip to her chest, right above her heart. "I forgive you."

Severus sobbed harshly, pressing his lips feverishly to hers.

"This is not your fault," she said, looking into his eyes with immeasurable love and solemn acceptance. "I absolve you. I hold no grievance against you. My soul bears you no ill. You are entirely blameless in this, Severus. Never forget that. I love you. Until the world stops, time itself comes to an end and even beyond, always remember that I love you. I would gladly have become Hermione Snape." She pressed the wand to her chest once more, holding his trembling hands in hers. "But I am proud to have been your friend."

"I love you," Severus whispered brokenly. "And I always will."

Hermione gently pressed her lips to his one last time and closed her eyes.

Severus clenched his eyes shut with a convulsive sob, his grip tightening on his ebony wand.

" _Tempus emantur cor fractus_ ," he sang, his voice cracking badly as he completed the spell.

It was a few minutes after when he finally willed his eyes to open.

Hermione Jean Granger was gone.

* * *

Bloody marauders. Bloody miserable life.

Severus Snape didn't mind _most_ Quidditch game days, but it was far too good an opportunity to not have to worry about James Potter and his Gryffindor minions coming to call and make his life a living hell. So, there he was, sitting out alone by the Black Lake, sitting up against his favourite tree, with a butterbeer in hand, and trying to enjoy the blissful solitude of everyone leaving him the bloody fuck alone for once.

It wasn't like there was anyone in this place who actually _cared_.

Even Lily had been drifting away, slowly but surely, enraptured by the siren call of the typically raucous Gryffindor social scene along with the rest of her housemates. She was no longer content to share quiet time with him, just reading and studying anymore. It just wasn't enough for her. Part of him realised that the chasm between them was growing ever larger and wider, but the other part of him resisted the reality of that change like a wizened goblin refusing to give up one knut more than absolutely necessary.

Growing up, Severus had decided, was severely overrated, especially when it _hurt_.

He closed his eyes, trying to think back to his youth when laying out under the great willow tree next to the pond was all he ever needed to feel better. Breathe in. Breathe out.

_Just don't think about James Bloody Potter and allow that arrogant, obnoxious, inexplicably popular git to invade your quiet time as well._

Don't think about him!

_**SPLASH!** _

What the bloody _fuck?_

Great, now even his language was degrading into that of a uneducated ruffian with no sense of—

Severus sighed and opened his eyes. He rolled up into a sitting position and grunted.

Was that a… _girl_?

What was she wear— oh Merlin's bloody _pants!_

Severus rushed up to the water and trudged in up to his waist and pulled the girl's limp form closer to the shore. He sloughed off his outer robes and buttoned her into it, really not wanting to be accused of being a pervert on top of all the other things he was typically called on a daily basis. He wasn't sure why that even mattered to him at this point, but he really didn't need any extra drama in his life.

At least Sirius Sodding Black wasn't around to do and say completely inappropriate things. Because then he would have to murder him out of principle.

He cast a weightless charm on the girl and carried her carefully in his arms back to Hogwarts. Everyone was at the game except Professor McGonagall, who was currently manning the fort on her own. He would have to bring this mystery girl to her first. He had no problems with Professor McGonagall. She always treated all of the students fairly despite her understandably rooting for her own house, unlike their highly Gryffindor-biased headmaster. No Slytherin had _ever_ accused Minerva McGonagall of being unfair. It was well-known that she would dock points off her own house in a heartbeat if she knew one of her cubs was in the wrong. The school quite honestly needed a lot more people like her.

Severus carried his awkward bundle with him to the Gryffindor Tower and stood directly in front of the portrait.

"Yes?" the portrait muttered, giving him and his burden the side-eye.

"I'm here to see the Deputy Headmistress, please," Severus said, chin lifted with determination.

The portrait stared and disappeared for a moment. The painted woman returned after a while. "Come in," she said, the door suddenly swinging open.

Severus took in a deep breath and stepped over the threshold.

"Mr Snape, what brings you to my—" Minerva McGonagall halted and looked ready to draw her wand out at a moment's notice. "Mr Snape, what is the meaning of this?!"

"She was in the lake," Severus blurted out. "She was naked and unconscious. I didn't know what else to do. So I wrapped her up in my robes and brought her here to you."

Minerva narrowed her eyes at him appraisingly, perhaps wondering if Severus was trying to pull the wool over her eyes and then realising that of all of her students, Severus was the last person to go looking for any more trouble and unnecessary attention. "Ach," she tutted worriedly. "Poppy is off at the game making sure that any injuries are promptly taken care of. Come. Follow me," she said, waving her hand. She walked him out of the entryway into a private chamber where there was a sitting area with a plush red sofa with tartan-patterned pillows. She waved her wand, transfiguring the sofa into a comfortable-looking bed.

"Lay the young lady here, lad," she said. "I'll fetch some warm blankets."

Severus carefully lay the still-unconscious girl down on the bed his professor had made for her, pulling the transfigured sheets over her and tucking her arms over the sheets in case she awoke and freaked out to find herself suddenly confined. He would completely understand if she did.

The girl seemed to be about his age, perhaps a year or so older. She had a tangled mane of light brown curls that seemed to have a mind of its own.

McGonagall arrived shortly after with what looked like a handmade family quilt. She covered the unconscious girl up and moved to fold the girl's slender hands over the quilt to hold it in place.

Minerva froze as she spotted a very familiar-looking ring on the girl's right ring finger. "Merlin! Mr Snape, you said you found her in the lake? Did you happen to hear a sound before you noticed her? A Portkey perhaps?"

"No, ma'am," Severus said shaking his head in the negative. "Just a really loud splash."

Minerva stared at the ring and tugged at it, but it stubbornly refused to leave the girl's finger. "Well, now that proves it."

"Ma'am?"

"She's a McGonagall, or claimed as kin by one of us," Minerva explained. "Those rings don't lie, lad. They cannot be stolen. And they cannot be taken off one to whom it was freely given, not by anyone other than the wearer herself."

Severus blinked and stared at the ring, recognising the familiar crest that adorned the Deputy Headmistress' hand. Strange that he had never really noticed it before. Then he looked at the girl's left hand and immediately froze.

Tiny white sapphires set magically into a thin band of goblin-wrought gold. Severus frantically searched for the long chain around his neck and pulled it out to examine it.

His mother's ring still hung from the chain, just as it had since the day she had first given it to him. "For luck," she had said.

Severus stared, dumbstruck. The white sapphires glittered. He reached out and to touch the band, and there was a wonderful surge of pure warmth like the first kiss of the afternoon sun after a cloudy morning. He gasped, rubbing his hand as though it had bitten him.

This witch, and he had no doubt at all that was exactly what she was, had somehow gained his trust— his love— and she had clearly returned it in kind. He knew, because the incontrovertible evidence was right there in front of him. His mother had said when she first held it, the ring had been silver with flawless sea pearls, and when her father had it, it had been a heavy gold with a rich, black onyx inlay. This particular ring had been his.

It was _exactly_ the same.


	2. It's Time to Try Defying Gravity

**A/N:** Lots of stuff in this chapter. Part of it is disturbingly canon.

**Disclaimer:** JKR's sandbox. I'm just playing with her sand to build my own sandcastle.

**Beta Love:** The Dragon and the Rose, my personal grammar compass who never fails to point me in the right direction when I get lost in a cornfield of my own thoughts  & Dutchgirl01, who seems to enjoy watching me get lost in that cornfield of my own thoughts.

**Trigger Warnings:** Violence, bullying, and near-skewering of a nosy beetle.

* * *

**Time for a Change**

**Chapter 2**

**It's Time to Try Defying Gravity**

_Something has changed within me_

_Something is not the same_

_I'm through with playing by the rules_

_Of someone else's game_

_Too late for second-guessing_

_Too late to go back to sleep_

_It's time to trust my instincts_

_Close my eyes and leap!_

_It's time to try_

_Defying gravity_

_I think I'll try_

_Defying gravity_

_And you can't pull me down!_

**(Wicked- Defying Gravity)**

"Mr Snape," Minerva said after a while. "If you do not wish to answer this if you do not wish to, but your reaction to the other ring our mysterious guest wears seem to be quite significant to you. If you do not find it too forward of me, I would like to hear the tale."

Severus, who had just heard how the ring on the mysterious witch's right ring finger marked her as as kin to Minerva McGonagall, figured the tale of his family ring— the Prince family ring— was not such a far-fetched sort of tale either.

"I—" Severus began slowly and awkwardly. He took the ring out from under his robes. "It is my mother's ring or rather, it was. It is a Prince family heirloom. My mother gave it to me for luck. She said that it could only go to someone the giver of the ring truly cared for and that it would automatically return if the giftee wasn't a suitable match for them."

Minerva hrmed. "A heart's compass ring, I think," she supposed. "Many of the old families used them to test the true bonds of loyalty to their partners. The McGonagall family used them too. They fell out of favour with many of the Sacred 28 due to the fact that the ring would often choose the heart's match but that match wasn't always the person the family desired. Many of the rings still exist, but they are either passed down as heirlooms or locked away in Gringotts and forgotten about."

"I did not think that it really worked," Severus confessed, fidgeting a bit. "I had tried to give it to a— friend as a friendship ring, but it always came back. It would show up on my bedside table or in my pocket the next day."

Minerva gave him a sympathetic smile. "Alas, they do not seem to function well as friendship tokens, Mr Snape. Their magic, much like that of my family's kinship rings, seek to take root, to find a home in those to which they are given. They do not wish to be parted once anchored."

"How is it you can give them to another?" Severus asked, curious.

"We have to truly want to," she replied, "from the depths of our very soul."

Severus frowned as he stared at the ring in his hand.

Minerva poured him another cup of tea. "If it is anything like our kinship ring, Mr Snape, you, as the bearer of the ring, have to want them to be a part of your life in a way that supersedes mere friendship. It would be a conscious desire to wish to share a life, a permanent bond with them that cannot ever be broken. Then, whoever you wished to gift the ring to, she has to want the same, it must be a mutual desire shared between both parties."

"Somehow," she continued, "I or someone in my clan made her kin to us, and somehow, she has another ring that does much the same. Your ring, Mr Snape. I can only speculate as to what has happened, but if you have the ring in your hand now, I can only presume that you haven't given it to her yet."

"I don't even know her," Severus protested.

Minerva's lips curved up slightly. "Perhaps you _should_ get to know her, Mr Snape. Perhaps, we both should."

Severus stared at the ring in his hand and then at the one on the strange witch's finger.

"Regardless of how you wish to proceed, Mr Snape," Minerva said. "I would appreciate if you kept the young lady's mode of arrival a secret, at least until I can confirm with my family that they did not send her to me via a botched transport. They often forget they cannot apparate here, and every time they do, something odd happens. None of them have arrived as naked as a wee _bairn_ , but there is a first time for everything."

Severus nodded in agreement.

"I appreciate your discretion, Mr Snape," Minerva said with a relieved sigh.

Severus nervously picked at his fingernails as he contemplated what he was about to say next. "Professor?"

"Yes, Mr Snape?"

Severus stared at the suddenly very interesting crack in the stone floor. "You won't… You won't make her move into the Gryffindor dorms, will you?"

Minerva tilted her head curiously. "Whatever do you mean?" she asked, sensing there was much more behind the young man's question than simple house rivalry. She knew honest sincerity when she saw it. She could also sense the weight and seriousness of whatever was troubling him, which gave her pause.

"Please," Severus began. "I have reason to believe that she wouldn't be safe there. Potter and Black have this— map— that tracks people. They would find out she wasn't one of the students, and they wouldn't give her a moment's peace until they found out everything they want to know.."

"What sort of map?" Minerva asked, visibly concerned.

"It's a parchment that they charmed to display the names of all the residents in the castle, and they can use it to track anyone, anywhere on the grounds. They can see everyone, no matter where they are, but if anyone other than one of them attempts to use it, they see only insults. I saw it once, from a distance, but they saw me and everything immediately disappeared off the page. I thought I was hallucinating, but— they always know how to find me, Professor. And they always know when there is no one around that might catch them in the act. I can't prove it, but I _know_ it," he said emphatically.

Minerva's face became grim as she realized just how the Marauders would use such an item to devastating effect. Especially as she was well aware that Severus Snape was utterly despised by the gang of pranksters, James Potter and Sirius Black most of all. "Very well, Mr Snape. For now, and I prefer it this way anyway, she will remain with me. What happens afterward depends on what she has to tell us when she wakes."

Severus nodded, clearly relieved. "That is fair. Thank you, ma'am."

Minerva inclined her head and shook her head curtly. "For now, let us leave the poor little lass to rest.

"Duffy," she called quietly.

A soft pop signalled the arrival of a small female house elf in the room. "Yes, mistress?"

"Please watch over our young guest. If she should wake or if there is anything you feel she requires, please let me know at once. In the meantime, could you please measure the lass and and purchase some nightclothes at Gladrags for me? A robe, a couple nightgowns, a pair of slippers and some underthings should do her for now."

"Yes, mistress! Duffy is honoured to serve most honorable and gracious house of McGonagall!"

Minerva nodded with satisfaction. "Thank you."

Teacher and student swept from the room together, and Minerva quietly closed the door behind them.

Duffy patted the duvet and brought it up to tuck her charge in more comfortably. "There, there, little miss McGonagall. Duffy will takes good care of you."

* * *

For the first time since coming to Hogwarts, Severus found himself preoccupied with something that completely distracted him that had nothing to do with whom Lily was spending her time with. It would have been odd, had Severus even realised he was doing it, but his mind was decidedly elsewhere. He poked at his plate absently, mindlessly shoving the food into his mouth and chewing, thinking of the strange witch that had fallen into the lake. Who was that girl? Why did she bear two magical rings from two magical families? If he hadn't given his ring to her yet, as Professor McGonagall had said, how could he have possibly—loved her?

Lily was the only one who had ever been his friend, and he had tried to give her the ring as a token of their friendship, but it had always come back. It had happened so often that Lily had gotten frustrated with him, thinking he was purposely giving her a trick ring.

He would say that he couldn't even imagine what it would be like to be in a mutually-caring relationship like McGonagall had described, but it would be a total lie. The truth was, he had thought about what it would be like every single day. He usually thought about it in regards to Lily, thinking that despite the fact that they were starting to grow apart, what they had was still a hundred times better than anything his mother and father had together.

Yet, the ring seemed to disagree.

What would that kind of relationship be like? To love someone and know that they returned it so much so that it could be—magical. Wouldn't that be the most glorious thing? Wouldn't it be—amazing?

Was this mysterious witch kind? Was she patient? Snarky? Did she appreciate the delicate balance of Sopophorous beans that had been cut, rather than crushed? If she wasn't interested in potions, could she appreciate a good book over the tedious drama of teenage life? Could she hold her own against— a werewolf? What kind of person could gain his trust when he, himself, couldn't even imagine someone being capable of such a thing? Did she know a way to achieve a reasonable balance between the social and professional worlds? Had she ever been ostracised? Did she know what it was like to be pursued by a gang of merciless Gryffindor tormentors at every free moment? Was she understood and accepted by everyone, or did people shun her for sticking out?

Was she the type to hold a grudge?

Severus idly took a bite of his sandwich, barely even noticing its flavour.

Goyle made a choking noise and Crabbe slapped him hard between his shoulderblades,, interrupting his train of thought. Severus looked through his lank curtains of black hair with a frustrated sigh. They were _such_ imbeciles. Their only talents lay in throwing their lot in with the strongest and loudest dog, then going about pretending to their equal, just as long as said top dog wasn't around. They groveled around Lucius the most, puffing themselves up like lizards engaging in some attention-seeking ritual. Lucius usually just rolled his eyes at them, but he wasn't the kind of Slytherin to deny the worship of his supplicants. Such people often proved useful in the long run. That was the typical Slytherin mentality. Those who were not allies were still kept around if they made themselves useful. As for what you were in Lucius' eyes, that was a much different sort of mystery. Being either an ally or a useful tool kept you on Lucius' list of people to watch, and while Severus' aptness for potions and his homework tended to keep him on the usefulness list, sometimes Severus just wanted to remain off the radar entirely. Attention of the sort that he currently had was not the kind he really wanted. The kind he truly wanted, well, that seemed to always remain just out of his reach.

"Hey, Snape," Avery said, nudging him with his elbow. "That girl is staring at _you_ this time. You slip something into her pumpkin juice?"

Severus narrowed his eyes, looking up suspiciously.

Lily was staring at him intensely. She widened her eyes at him and gave him a blatantly questioning look.

Well, that was a bit different. Her look was usually along the lines of "Why are you staring at me again, Severus?" As he hadn't been staring at or even thinking about her, he knew it wasn't for _that_ reason.

Black and Potter were glaring daggers at him, but that was really nothing new. They did seem to have a bit more bite to their normal disapproval. He knew they didn't like Lily's choice in friends, especially if it didn't involve them. Potter had been trying to impress Lily ever since he remembered she was a girl, and Sirius wanted to be her friend strictly to taunt Severus by putting his arm around her in some lame simulation of personal possessiveness. Lily, however, wanted nothing to do with that sort of thing. Well, at least, she hadn't so far. Both Sirius and James had earned black eyes at a number of points where Lily had made that abundantly clear. Still, Lily sat with them, chatted with them, and socialised with them all the time, but eventually Black, Potter, or Pettigrew would do something out of line and she would either dress them down with everyone in the Great Hall sitting back to watch the show or else she would simply slug them.

Severus had to admit he preferred it when she slugged them, but the public dressing down was a close second. Shortly after that, she would storm her way over to Severus, grab him by the sleeve, and drag him off to study with her. He never much minded that either.

Severus shrugged at Lily. What else could he do? "Oh, I rescued a naked witch from the lake today," was plain out. "This mysterious witch wearing my family ring fell nearby while I was studying," didn't seem like a prudent thing to cop to either.

Severus pulled his hand to his hair and brushed it behind his ear and froze.

_An older witch looked up at him. Somehow, he was much taller than he was used to. She had familiar bushy curls and warm brown eyes. Her delicate fingers brushed against his face as she moved his hair back from his face. Her warm fingers lightly touched the skin of his ear._

" _You've been working much too hard, Severus," the witch said softly, tenderly. "You should sleep before you end up making a mistake and ruining the potion. Or worse, blowing up or melting one of your favorite cauldrons ala Neville Longbottom."_

" _Tch," he heard himself say. "Bloody know-it-all chit."_

_She grinned at him warmly. "I learned from the very best."_

_Severus felt himself narrow his eyes. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Miss Granger."_

" _Ach," the woman stuck out her little pink tongue slightly. "It's McGonagall. You, of all people, should know that."_

" _Hn," he replied. "Maybe if you can stop Mr Cassowary from blowing up his cauldron like that dunderhead Longbottom, I will consider your petition to be addressed by your new name."_

_The bushy-haired witch arched a brow that looked disturbingly like his own viewed in a mirror. "You never prevented Neville from constantly blowing up his cauldrons, my_ Master _. Why, then, should I be given such a daunting and hazardous, nay, impossible task?"_

" _You do so enjoy your challenges, my apprentice," he replied with a sniff._

_She sighed at him, her eyes sad. "One day, my stubborn master, I would enjoy being called by my true name. All of the other professors do. Why must the one I work with day in and day out be the only one who cannot call me by my true name or my first name without treating it like some horrendous crime against humanity?"_

_Severus felt himself straighten. "When you wear your mastery pin on your collar, then I will call you by your true name," he said quietly._

_The witch signed and tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear with a heavy and very audible sigh. "As you wish," she murmured wearily and walked out. "I'll take the Dittany up to Poppy, you lazy sod."_

_Severus felt his lips quirk slightly upward as he pulled out the band of gold from his pocket and fingered it consideringly. His hand clasped over it tightly as he slipped it back into his breast pocket, close to his heart._

Severus twitched as the strangely clear vision came to him. It felt very vivid and very real, as if he had experienced it himself. It was him and yet… it wasn't. Not yet, anyway. He felt a deep welling of affection and a sort of casual tenderness under the detached banter between his older self and the older self of the unconscious girl in Professor McGonagall's rooms.

Somehow the girl was younger, just as he was, yet he had no doubt at all that the woman in the vision was one and the same as the mysterious lady of the lake. Severus picked up his things and headed off to study. Everyone else other than the Ravenclaws would slack and avoid doing their studies until hours before bedtime on Sunday night, but he had no intention of ever joining the horde of dunderheads.

He was so preoccupied with his inner thoughts that he didn't notice that two scowling Gryffindors, a whey-faced werewolf, and a scruffy-looking Pettigrew were attempting to be sneaky, trailing a short distance behind him.

* * *

"Well, well, well, this should liven you up, Padfoot," James snickered. "Look who is heading off all on his lonesome."

"Excellent," Sirius replied with a evil grin. " _Snivellus._ "

Severus was walking past the bushes and heading off across the green as James and Sirius took point, leaving Remus and Peter to trail in their wake. Lupin had a faint frown line between his eyebrows as he followed, but Peter had a strange look of pure and avid anticipation on his face.

"All right there, Snivellus?" James asked, just a little too loudly to be casual.

Snape reacted very swiftly, but it wasn't quite fast enough when he was carrying his books and not just his wand. James, however, had not come so unprepared, and he shouted out " _Expelliarmus!_ " before Severus' hand could even finish diving into his pocket.

Snape's wand went flying into the air in a high arc, and it fell with a thunk into the nearby tree, clattered back down to the ground and smacked into a rock before it rolled off into the undergrowth and out of sight.

Sirius barked a harsh, mocking laugh. "Impedimenta!" he laughed the spell, pointing his wand at the Slytherin wizard.

Snape was in the process of diving for his wand just as Sirius caught him with the spell, and now he was hanging in a half-dive, suspended in the air by his ankle.

"You need to leave Lily alone, Snivellus," James sneered at him. "She doesn't need to be hanging around ugly, greasy-haired gits like you."

Peter was sniggering very unattractively and attempting to copy James' arrogant sneer.

Snape was fighting hard to right himself, but the jinx still held him tightly in its grip, making him look like a gangly marionette on strings. James and Sirius were holding their wands out, obviously spoiling for a fight and quite unconcerned about being caught doing something that could see them all expelled.

"You—wait," Snape panted, looking up at James with an expression of unadulterated hatred and loathing. "You—wait…"

"Oi? Snivellus?" Sirius taunted. "What'cha gonna do, Snivelly? Going to blow your snot on us?"

Snape attempted to spout out a stream of swearing mixed with hexes, but his wand was lying uselessly in the brush.

"Oh, now, we can't have that," James sneered. "What would your mother think? _Scourgify!_ "

Snape choked as horrendously pink soap bubbles spewed forth from his mouth.

"Leave him _**ALONE!**_ "

James and Sirius spun around together as Lily came storming down the path from Hogwarts, her hair streaming behind her like a trail of fire being propelled by a hurricane.

"Everything is okay here, right Sirius? All right, Evans?" James asked smoothly, his voice dropping into a strangely pleasant, deeper, and far less mocking tone.

"You leave him alone," Lily seethed. She looked at James as though he was the scum of the earth. The amount of sheer dislike in her demeanor was enough to cause James to draw back ever-so-slightly. "What's he ever done to you?"

"Well," James said matter-of-factly,"it's more the fact that he _exists,_ if you know what I mean…"

"You think you're so funny," Lily scoffed, "but you're just an arrogant, bullying toerag, James Potter. Leave him _alone!"_

James seemed to get an idea. "Tell you what, Evans. Go out with me, and I'll never lay a wand on old Snivelly again."

"I wouldn't go out with you if it were a choice between you and the giant squid," Lily spat furiously.

"Aw, bad luck there, Prongs," Sirius cooed. "Oi! None of that!" Sirius saw Snape almost about to grasp his wand. He cast a series of spells, hanging him upside down to where both his shabby pants and gangly legs were showing.

"Let him down!" Lily hissed.

"Why, of course," James snickered, jerking his wand upward. Snape fell into an ungainly heap of arms and legs on the ground, and as he reached for his wand again, Sirius yelled, " _Petrificus Totalus!_ " and the Slytherin wizard stiffened completely, falling flat on his face.

"You will _**LEAVE HIM ALONE!**_ " Lily shouted in earnest, this time her wand was out, and James and Sirius seemed to realise the rules had suddenly changed and not in their favour.

"Ah, Evans, I don't want to have to hex you," he blurted.

"Take that curse off him then!"

"But he's so much better behaved on the ground!" Sirius replied, casting a spell that drilled Severus' body into the dirt a little deeper.

Fury was starting to ooze off of Severus' body. Body completely paralysed, no one noticed his wand slowly, ever so slowly, starting to drift towards his frozen hand.

Sirius leaned over Snape and pulled a piece of parchment out from his robes. "You'll _never_ be free of us, Snivellus. We'll _always_ know where you are, and Evans isn't going to be around to save your pitiful arse all the time."

Snape's eyes focused on Sirius with pure, undeniable hatred.

Peter, who seemed very excited by what was going down, had his wand out, and he was casting a flurry of _very_ naughty spells at Snape. Had there been anyone else around to witness the display, it would have been even more embarrassing. He giggled like a misbehaving child, far too excited by what he was doing to even realise there was anyone else around.

Lily, who flushed completely, pointed her wand at Peter. "Stop it! _**STOP IT!**_ "

Peter, however, was too busy playing, and he didn't even seem to notice her furious cries. When Lily knocked him down with a powerful blast of water from her wand to get him away, he spun on her with a hiss, whiskers sprouting from his face and his ears rounding and moving to the top of his head. A long, naked worm-like tail sprouted out of his arse, ripping a hole in his trousers and bursting out of his robes.

James and Sirius' eyes widened in shock and they seemed to immediately shift priorities. "Bad luck, Snivelly. We'll meet again," they threatened, as they quickly thrust Peter behind them and shoved him hard to get him moving.

"You most certainly will _not_ Mr Potter, Mr Black," Minerva's furious voice dripped venom as she suddenly appeared nearby, seemingly out of nowhere.

Peter gave an unmanly scream, and suddenly he was a rat, attempting to tear off across the green.

Minerva flicked her wand, and suddenly Peter found himself arse over kettle and face down in the sticky mud, with his arms and legs trying desperately to operate like a rat's while his body was still mostly human. She glared daggers at the exposed illegal Animagus.

"I don't quite recall teaching you that particular skill, Mr Pettigrew, and seeing as I read the registry quite regularly as we tend to police our own, I happen to know for a fact that you are _not_ registered. That makes you very much illegal, and for that alone, I will see you docked fifty points as well as report your lack of status to the Department of Law Enforcement. She flicked her wand and Pettigrew's came flying to her. "I will also check your wand to see what spells you have cast in the last hour. Depending on what and how often, you may be suffering my company in an amount of detentions befitting the severity of your transgressions."

Minerva flicked her wand again, dispelling the multitude of hexes and curses on Snape. She cleaned him up with a swish of her wrist, and offered him one of her handkerchiefs to stop his nosebleed. Snape, who was glaring molten daggers at both Potter and Black, remained silent due to McGonagall's quelling presence.

"And you, Mr Potter, Mr Black," Minerva said, narrowing her eyes and holding her hand out in a clear demand for their wands, "your punishments will vary in length depending on what I discover upon examining your wands. On top of it, Gryffindor will lose a total of one hundred points for your bullying behaviour, now that I have finally confirmed it to be much more than hearsay. In case you haven't figured it out, that's fifty points each for your utterly despicable behavior today. And seeing as I am the Head of House for you, I will be sending owls to your parents, explaining in precise detail _exactly_ what each of you have done."

"Now, empty your pockets, all of you," Minerva growled, a hint of the cat showing in her voice.

Red-faced at having been caught dead to rights, the trio sullenly emptied their pockets out onto the green for Minerva to inspect. Sirius frantically tried to unobtrusively stuff the highly incriminating parchment into a knothole in a nearby tree.

"You will give that to me, Mr Black," Minerva ordered.

Sirius exchanged frantic looks with James and Peter. Peter, oddly enough, was babbling incoherent nonsense about cheese.

Sirius reluctantly handed her the parchment.

"It's just a piece of note parchment—" James blurted.

Minerva narrowed her eyes. "I'll advise you not to _lie_ to me, Mr Potter, on top of everything else you have done today."

James turned bright red, visibly angry.

"Your belongings will be returned to you after your detentions have been fully served, provided they have not been confirmed to be contraband. All of you will begin serving your detentions tonight with Mr Filch _without_ your wands, as those will be held in my custody until the trace can be run on them," Minerva said flatly. "Now, the three of you get out of my sight. I will summon you all to my office for further discussion of your absolutely appalling behavior, when I am calm enough to resist the urge to hex you all into next year. You are a disgrace to all that is Gryffindor. Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin were friends. _All_ of the founders were. You would do well to remember that."

Minerva took in a very deep breath after the trio slunk away with their tails between their legs. She gathered all of the wands and various other items into a neat bundle and tucked it under her arm.

"Are you alright, Mr Snape?" she asked quietly.

Severus nodded numbly. Never once had any staff member actually been around to witness any of the incidents between himself and the rampaging gang of shameless bullies who called themselves the Marauders.

"You can thank Mr Lupin for coming to fetch me, Mr Snape," Minerva said quietly. "I know you have never seen eye-to-eye, but it was because of him that I managed to get here in time and witness enough to provide confirmation of the bullying."

Snape blinked in confusion. _Lupin_ had gone to tell McGonagall?

"Is Remus okay?" Lily blurted.

"He's fine, Miss Evans," Minerva assured her. "He's resting in the staff lounge with Professor Flitwick after running to fetch me there."

"Sev, are you okay? Really okay?" Lily asked. "You've been a bit off all day."

Severus flinched but shook his head adamantly. "I'm fine, Lily."

Lily looked rather dubious, but wisely didn't press him further.

"I will also need your wands temporarily, Miss Evans, Mr Snape," Minerva said sombrely. "I will have to record what was cast by whom so there are no loose ends."

Severus nodded silently and handed his over after picking it up from the mud. Minerva stared at it wearily, shaking her head. She accepted Lily's as well and nodded in thanks.

"I realise this may be asking a bit much of you right now, but please try to stay out of further trouble today. While the other houses may find such fights to be a grand thing, I _would_ like at least some points to remain in the positive by the end of term."

Lily and Severus looked at her sheepishly and nodded their agreement together.

Minerva straightened her back and squared her chin. "Twenty-five points to Gryffindor for standing up for your friends, Miss Evans, and thirty points to Slytherin for enduring a very uncomfortable situation that no student should ever have to here at Hogwarts. And also in appreciation that you did not throw any offensive spells of your own, as was reported to me by Mr Lupin, and despite severe provocation on the parts of Mr Potter, Mr Black and Mr Pettigrew."

Severus looked at his shoes.

"Despite how much you may have wanted to," Minerva added dryly.

Severus flushed slightly.

"It would behoove you both to leave Mr Lupin's name out of any conversation regarding this unfortunate incident so as to keep him safe from any possible retribution for alerting me to the situation," Minerva suggested.

Lily nodded immediately, but Severus bit his lip, somewhat conflicted.

Lily nudged him with her elbow and made a face at him. " _Sev!_ "

After a long silence, Severus nodded silently.

Minerva gave them both an approving smile. "Thank you."

* * *

With Albus Dumbledore already off somewhere on the continent attempting to hire a new DADA professor for next term, Minerva had been left in charge as acting headmistress until his return. It was both a great thing for getting things done and a curse because every single time a house-elf sneezed someone had to run and tell her all about it.

Her unexpected guest was still unconscious and sleeping away, and Poppy had come into her chambers to check on her as well, just to make sure nothing too damaging had happened to cause her to crash land in the lake. She was happy that the girl wasn't in the hospital wing garnering unwanted attention, and since the girl was obviously kin, she wasn't going just leave her alone and unprotected either.

Short of some very powerful magic that was binding her to two distinct family lines, Poppy couldn't say much. The girl appeared to be around seventeen or eighteen at the most, but her magic was very stable— the sort of thing that normally happened after the growing years had concluded or even well into adulthood. Poppy was fairly certain the girl was older magically than her physical appearance would seem to suggest, but she could not be sure precisely how old she would have been prior to her unexpected mode of arrival at Hogwarts. Poppy seemed to agree that such things did not need to be noted in a record, just in case someone came sniffing around, seeing as that it wasn't something that could directly affect her treatment. As far as Poppy was concerned, she was a healthy young adult, and that was all Poppy cared about. Minerva could only agree, really. The young woman was kin, and that made her as tight as blood. Regardless of her not even knowing her name or his past, it was enough to charge Minerva's protective instincts not so unlike the lioness to her cubs.

The McGonagalls were the sort of people who truly valued their kin and those they would claim as kin far more than mere legal adoption. Once the bond had been made, it was just as strong as being born of the body, and that was really all any McGonagall needed to know. Finding out who gave her the ring was really a formality and an attempt to determine if one of her cousins, uncles, or some other relation had sent the lass to her for some good reason yet unknown.

All things aside on the unexpected kin dropping in quite literally, Minerva had other pressing issues she needed to deal with. Illegal Animagi were a hazard to the good name of Animagi that did follow the rules, and Animagi had enough trouble with paranoid people trying to ruin the good names of those like herself. Those like Minerva had fought ferociously to keep the regulations down, and registering was to protect both the Animagi and those who might claim "that wizard was spying on me as a bluebird! I know it!" It kept such nonsensical claims down to a dull, and somewhat laughable, roar.

Her hand drifted to her collarbone where the enchanted gem sat embedded into her shoulder bone to mark her as a registered Animagus. What many did not realise was that registering didn't just make it so the ability wasn't abused, but it also protected those that were registered. The gem transfigured into a collar with name tags that referred back to a special Muggle-friendly section of the Ministry just in case the Animagus was "found abandoned" by unknowing Muggles. It wasn't something that was readily advertised, as many of the tried and true, registered Animagi believed that those who didn't do the right thing and register deserved the punishment they received when they were caught.

While Minerva wasn't quite the same as Master Rudolphus Greensetter, who wanted all unregistered Animagi branded on the forehead when found, she did at least confess that she thought those who didn't register within a month of having a form were either very, very irresponsible or acting suspicious. Speaking of suspicious…

Peter Pettigrew was sitting at a table in her office looking like he wanted to eat her chess pieces, his parents were sitting in the loveseat, looking like they wanted to their son to spontaneously combust from their censorious gazes alone, and two obligatory Aurors accompanied the official from the Animagus Registry and they were all crammed into her rather insufficient amount of office space.

Auror Raindog, who was a golden-red Belgian Malinois with an distinctively black face and pointed ears in his Animagus form, was a formidable tracker who was often sent out to locate everything from lost children to hardened criminals. He also had the rare ability to sense an Animagus regardless of what form they or he was in, which was a very specialised talent. He and Minerva had trained together as Animagi students under Master Marcus Maarten. They had always set upon each other like cats and dogs, according to their master, and the day when they both transformed into a dog and cat respectively, their master threw up his hands and crowed delightedly, "Hah! I _knew_ it!"

They had remained close friends ever since their apprenticeship days, and Minerva was glad he was there to confirm Peter Pettigrew's status as an illegal Animagus. There would be an official paper trail.

Peter's parents were signing the forms allowing for the use of exactly three drops of Veritaserum to use used for the purposes of answering a list of very specific questions which were submitted to the parents for their approval ahead of time. They were allowed to be present for the questioning of their son for the entire time of his interrogation, with the Aurors there as witnesses as well as Minerva herself, so they saw no harm in it. The serum could not force you to say anything that was patently false, and any protectiveness they might have felt for the boy had evaporated the moment they got the letter detailing _exactly_ what spells he had been casting on one Severus Snape. For that offense alone, his parents clutched their son's wand tightly with barely-contained fury.

Minerva sat quietly at her desk as a quiet witness.

"Is your name Peter Pettigrew?"

"Yes."

"Do you live in Chilton, County Durham?"

"Yes, except when I'm at Hogwarts."

"What spells did you cast on Severus Snape yesterday?"

"Endless jock-itch jinx and the blue-balls hex," Peter said smoothly. "Painful erection, Engorgio, the bladder blocker curse, and Nates Ulcera," he giggled to himself.

"Which people were present when you cast these spells at Mr Snape?"

"My best mates, James Potter and Sirius Black, the Muggle-born Lily Evans, and Snivellus Snape, of course. Remus got a stomach ache and had to leave the fun early. He always misses out on the real fun. I hear he has Spattergroit this time. Boy gets sick more often than anyone else I know."

"Mr Pettigrew," the Registry official redirected him. "Are you an Animagus?"

"Psh," Peter blurted. "Of course I am."

"What is your animal form?"

"A rrrrrrrrat!" he giggled.

"How long have you been a rat Animagus?"

"For the last year."

"How did you become one?"

"My mates and I studied together so we could sneak out of Hogwarts unseen. It took us three years to get it perfect. I was a natural. Prongs got his antlers stuck in his bed curtains, and Padfoot had to hide his tail for a month under his robes. Not me! I was so much _better_!"

The official wrote down a new question and passed it to Mr and Mrs Pettigrew. They nodded to him in grim assent.

"Who are Prongs and Padfoot?"

"James is Prongs because he had this obnoxious rack of antlers on his head," Peter burbled. "Sirius is Padfoot because his feet are all huge and have this big ol' pads on the bottom of his paws."

"First and last names, please."

"Jamesh Potter," he slurred strangely. "Shirius Black."

Auror Raindog whispered to his companion, Auror Krandle. They both nodded. "Hurry, Jameson, the serum needs to be countered soon."

Jameson nodded. "Have you ever used your Animagus form for criminal purposes?"

"Well, I did nick a few boxes of sweets for my mates at Honeydukes now and then. Especially Bertie Bott's beans, chocolate frogs and sugar quills," Peter said with a grin. "Prongs had me help sneak a potion into the Slytherin table's food by running up some girl's leg. It was awesome. They were all puking and coming down with the runs! I watch the girls in the loo all running around starkers, in the bath, in their dorms, and trying to doll themselves up. That's not illegal, though. I checked." A strange grin went across his face: pride.

The Aurors exchanged uneasy glances as the official scribbled notes down on his parchment.

Jameson narrowed his eyes. "Mr Pettigrew, did you ever, even once, consider registering as an Animagus?"

"Puahahahah! Never. What fun would that be?"

Jameson nodded to Aurors Raindog and Krandle, took out a vial of something clear and placed three clear drops into Peter's mouth. Peter shook his head violently and crossed his arms in stubborn defiance. "I'm not telling you anything," he said with a sniff.

Jameson cleared his throat. "Mr Pettigrew. I hereby find you guilty of being an unregistered Animagus with no intention to ever register your status. For your other crimes, I shall refer to you to the Auror department, which will occur following a thorough mental health evaluation at St Mungo's." Jameson clicked a wristband on Peter's wrist. "Your Animagus abilities will be suppressed until you are both of age and have graduated from Hogwarts. At that time you will be able to register with the Registry and pay all fines accrued while you remained unregistered. The bracelet will be removed upon serving whatever sentence and performing any and all requirements are decided upon by the Wizengamot upon hearing your case. Since you are currently underage, your sentence may be delayed until graduation, at which point it must be served in full. If you are unable to afford to pay your fines, you will be contracted into service with the goblins, in whatever capacity they deem fit, in payment for your fines until your wages equal the total amount of your penalty."

Jameson stamped the parchment and passed it over to the Aurors. "Let it be known that the punishment and fines for being unregistered for over a year without being registered is normally a minimum of one year in Azkaban, the total sentence depending on the amount of time spent as an illegal Animagus. If said time is also accompanied by confirmed illegal or Dark Wizard activity, the sentence imposed can be from fifty years to life. However, due to your status as a minor, you may be given the option of service into parole, given a spotless record upon your graduation, again, depending on your report from St. Mungo's and the final decision of the Wizengamot."

"Seeing as you are still a minor, your parents will also be involved in your sentencing as well as mental health evaluation," Jameson said. "Aurors Raindog and Krandle will escort you to St Mungo's for your exam, Mr Pettigrew. If I were you, I recommend keeping your nose as clean as possible, as everything you do from this point will be watched very, very carefully."

"But I didn't do anything wrong!" Peter protested, working up to a proper sulk and whine.

"I will submit the appropriate paperwork excusing Mr Pettigrew from classes while he being evaluated at St. Mungo's to you, Deputy Headmistress McGonagall," Jameson said with a heavy sigh.

Minerva, who had been staring quite fitfully at the spine of an old book on her shelves, looked up and nodded curtly. "Thank you."

The official and the two Aurors took Peter with them, with Mr and Mrs Pettigrew trailing behind, their faces a bit pale following the shocking revelation of just what their son had been up to while away at school.

Minerva closed her eyes, tapping her quill against her face. The rest of the interrogations would have to wait until the Aurors and the Registry official returned from dealing with Peter Pettigrew. She didn't look forward to that bit of drama in the slightest.

* * *

By the time Minerva was able to (almost literally) crawl back into her private chambers, all she wanted was a hot bath and sleep and a tasty beverage of questionable proofage. Mr Pettigrew was now in the care of St Mungo's, the interrogations of Mr Potter and Mr Black had been administered in regards to their own questionable Animagus status. Both of them adamantly denied being Animagi, but they both seemed highly agitated and greatly relieved when they were finally permitted to return to their dormitory.

The level of terror they displayed was what tipped her off that something was still very much amiss, that the equation had not yet been fully resolved. Being caught after performing an irresponsible act was not something to cause that kind of wide-eyed panic, but the moment the Animagus suppression bracelets went on their wrists, they looked as though they were going to gnaw it off like wild animals caught in a trap.

Even more strangely, neither boy would actually tell her what was distressing them so. Their parents had already been owled with news of multiple serious violations of the school rules, so she highly doubted that being found out as an illegal Animagus would be likely to save them much grief with said parents. Save for the enormous pile of fines they would have to pay or serve out in Goblin servitude. Since they _were_ still minors, that aspect promised to be a bit more forgiving. Their ability wasn't being taken away forever. What then could be the problem?

After looking through their records, she saw nothing recorded by the Headmaster save an incident when "innocent pranks got somewhat out of hand" involving a Slytherin boy, but the details were extremely vague. After having seen for herself just how not-so-innocent the pranks were, Minerva now had a swiftly growing collection of serious doubts.

In fact, the hefty pile of slips containing written notations of various infractions committed by the Marauders were all dismissed as harmless pranks and were "punished" with mere slaps on the hands, with the most action taken being only a single night of detention. The only record of a longer detention was actually one of her own slips that she had filed, signed, and put in the file herself, witnessed by Flitwick. That and today's official Auror citations, warnings and the Registry's sentencing and the paperwork for the fines to be paid were the only negative flags in their records.

How was that even _possible_? Troublemakers did not simply spring up out of the ground like fairy ring fungi after a rain. Troublemakers started small and steadily worked their way into something far worse, especially if not dealt with swiftly and consistently. That was how she saw work out with such students, time and time again. Oddly, the boys had always been on their very best behaviour in her Transfiguration classes, but judging by the sheer quantity of incident reports, her own experiences with them were highly unusual.

They had obviously been paying rapt attention to her Transfiguration lessons in order to glean enough finesse and know-how to achieve Animagus magic, but she couldn't help but think she was missing a much larger picture that was lurking just in front of her nose.

She checked the other incident reports, and all of them strangely seemed to be filed during the months when Albus was off searching for a new DADA instructor for the following year. All of them, now that she was finally really looking at them, occurred during the times when Albus was away from the school.

What were the chances of _**THAT**_ happening?

Minerva was growing steadily more suspicious now that the odd events surrounding the Marauders seemed to multiply like Nifflers on a fertility potion. She downed a wee dram of her favourite Glenfiddich and set the glass down on the nearby table. At least Flich was taking patrols tonight. She was really in no mood to go chasing snoggers out of the Astronomy Tower, broom closets, and the Prefect's bath.

" _Mam_."

Minerva's head shot up abruptly, her hand flying out and practically knocking over her glass.

" _ **Mammy, no! NO! Mam!**_ "

Minerva was on her feet and running faster than any time she could remember. There was something about the sound that evoked something primal in her. The lass in the next room was calling for her mother, and the distress was thick enough to cut with a knife.

"Mam, please don't leave me! Don't— no, no, no! Not you too. Not you too!"

Minerva burst into the room, caring not for decorum nor protocol. The noise of her entry caused the young witch to bolt up straight in the bed, her eyes whirling with panic and pain. Her whisky-coloured eyes glittered with tears.

Minerva froze, unsure what to do. She knew what she wanted to do— scoop up the lass in a hug and not let go, but that was hardly appropriate having not even met her before.

" _Mam?_ " the witch said brokenly.

" _Hello, lass,_ " McGonagall replied, swapping into Scots Leid. " _Ma name's Minerva. What's yer name?_ "

The girl's face contorted into pure relief as she flung herself into Minerva's arms and sobbed, " _Mam! Ye'r alive_!"

Minerva froze in complete shock as the young woman wrapped her arms tightly around her waist and sobbed against her.

* * *

As Minerva pulled her head out of her heirloom Pensieve, she gazed at her newly-discovered daughter. _Her_ daughter. It was so very clear now. Hermione had taken off her ring and shown her the inscription that had magically inscribed itself into the ring the moment her future self had given it to her:

**Hermione, my beloved daughter.** _**It's a lang road that's no goat a turnin'** _ **-Minerva**

The McGonagalls didn't have a family motto officially, but if there had been one, the phrase would have been a close contender. Keep your head up. Don't lose heart. Dark times don't last forever.

Minerva had a daughter. The elder witch couldn't even begin to express the joy in that after having lost her first love, Dougal McGregor to her career at the Ministry. The dream of having a family had seemingly died with him, and while her former boss, Elphinstone Urquart had constantly proposed marriage to her, her heart had always been mourning Dougal— her funny, witty, hardworking Muggle farm boy. In the end, she had loved her magic far too much to give it up for Dougal, something that even now, while grieving him, she still felt there was no other choice. The Statute of Secrecy required her to give up her wand if she wanted to live with a Muggle. It wasn't fair, especially since children of Muggle parents were allowed to know about their children and live in harmony with them.

Now, in front of her, sipping Minerva's favourite tea, was Hermione McGonagall, orphaned in a war that hadn't happened yet and adopted by Minerva. They had lived a number of years blissfully happy, even though very few know of the official adoption, until Albus had sent her on a task to fetch something important to him after the war from one of his side properties.

Surviving Death Eaters had been waiting for Albus, hoping for the chance to take a final shot at the old man. Instead, they had hit Minerva with about ten stunners and a mixture of curses to the heart. The emergency Portkey Hermione had developed in conjunction with the then-Professor Snape had ported her home in time to die in a frantic Hermione's trembling arms. From the memories, Hermione hadn't simply sat back and uselessly wrung her hands. She had tried everything from emergency first aid spells to potions, counter curses, and Muggle CPR to keep the elder witch alive in time for the healer to apparate in, but it had all been in vain.

Minerva McGonagall had died in her daughter's arms not even a full decade after Hermione's birth parents had been tortured and murdered in their own beds by Death Eaters.

The relief in Hermione's eyes was beyond measure. Somehow, she had been transported back in time by a spell that had been meant to freeze her in time and stop her heart— a mercy killing— and the first thing the lass did upon waking was throw her arms around her beloved mam to sob in joyous relief.

What kind of nightmare world had the lass come from that would have made her so desperate to throw her arms around a woman that should have been dead?

She didn't have to go far to learn the answers to that. The memories were right there in her Pensieve.

She came from a world where Albus Dumbledore had been permanently corrupted by a Horcrux, bringing all of his failings and ignoble qualities into dominance: arrogance, pride, selfishness, greed, and an unquenchable lust for power. She had come from a world where that same Albus Dumbledore had forced Severus Snape, the man she loved, via Unbreakable Vow to kill her, allegedly for some idle promise to the Minister for Magic— for a crime he knew full well the girl was completely innocent of.

It was funny hearing her own musical lilt echoed in the girl— a gift from the ring of Kinship. The nuances of Scots Leid and a startling command of Gaelic for a witch who had been born to English and had spoken nothing else but a handful of French and Bulgarian through her young life. She sounded like Family. She sounded like— her daughter. If there had been any doubt in her mind at all as to the lass' legitimate adoption by her clan, it had vanished instantly.

Hermione _was_ Minerva's daughter, and time cared not for the when or how, only that it had happened and thus now was. Perhaps, Minerva speculated, fate had decided that they both deserved a second chance. That, too, included one Severus Snape, whose older, more bitter, and tragically ill-fated swearing of an unbreakable Vow in exchanged for a promise to save the life of one Lily Potter, her one-year-old son, and her husband— James Potter, who had once made it his mission in life to make Severus' life a living hell.

Minerva would have had a hard time believing Lily Potter would have given James Potter the time of day let alone had a child with her most infamous "toe-rag" of an admirer, but apparently the incident that happened just the other afternoon had proved to be the trigger for a marked change of circumstances. Only, the original situation had ended with the parting of two childhood friends and a the beginning lifetime of unresolved regret— death for two and a lifetime of indentured servitude for the other in supposed atonement of one tragic verbal "sin" committed in the heat of the moment.

It was strange, even after a few hours of talking to Hermione and going through a few more of Pensieve memories, Minerva felt like she was reuniting with an old and cherished friend and colleague. She had no doubt whatsoever that Hermione had spent several years teaching. She had the same instincts. She had the same observational focus, and that gave Minerva an idea that would keep her daughter closer to her and give her the best cover she could possibly get.

"I have an idea," Minerva said, steepling her fingers together in a sure sign of deep thought.

Hermione tilted her head curiously. " _What would that be, mam?_ " she replied in fluid Gaelic.

Minerva couldn't help but smile at the language of her birthright. How she had longed for it without even realising it. "I will adopt you. Again, or rather, for the first time." Minerva waved her hand in regards to time. "You will be the orphaned daughter of a distant relative, that being me, but they don't have to know that. You will be my apprentice, as you are of the appropriate age for such things. I will arrange for you to sit your exams saying you were home-schooled as per the tradition of my distant relatives who don't trust schools. That is also not a lie. I do indeed have relatives that would make Alastor Moody look like an innocent and trusting child."

Hermione's eyebrows lifted in amusement at the thought.

"Then again, you probably know them," Minerva chuckled.

Hermione nodded. "Great Auntie Rosemary."

Minerva let out a long-suffering sigh. "Aye. That." Minerva sniffed. "I swear she was dropped on the head as a wee lass. Anyway, we'll have you officially tested and registered at the Animagus Registry so you won't go through what we've most recently had going on under the roof of Hogwarts."

Hermione's eyebrows lifted.

Minerva shook her head, dismissing that entire sack of yowling Kneazles for later. "As my official apprentice, you will be allowed personal chambers adjoining mine and you will be authorised to help me with my duties as well as learn, officially, what you already know, but it will give us time to deal with what seems to be a dire chain of events revolving the Horcruxes of Tom Riddle."

Minerva drummed her fingertips together.

"I think it's time for you to take your exams, my dear daughter," Minerva said slyly. "It's time you met my _real_ boss."

Hermione's eyes widened.

"Oh, my dear," Minerva shook her head in dismay. "Apparently there were certain things I did keep close to my heart till the very end."

* * *

"The poor dear," Minerva clucked, watching Hermione sleep head down to the nearby desk. "I've never seen someone take so many tests at once. Such a little trooper she is, Elph."

"Well she _is_ a McGonagall," Elphinstone laughed. "I would expect nothing less from your daughter, love."

Minerva flashed a brief smile.

"Truth be told, I haven't seen someone take all the tests in one swoop since you barrel rolled into my life like the proverbial kitten after a ball of yarn," Elph confessed.

Minerva chuckled.

"I've always imagined what any child of yours would be like, Minerva, and honestly, she's all I could imagine," Elph said with an eyebrow wiggle. "And you didn't even have to go through labour."

Minerva snorted. "Kin falls from the skies for the McGonagalls, dearie. As well you know."

"Literally, apparently," Elph coughed. "My old friend Slughorn has been sniffing around looking for people interested in taking over for his position, or so I have been informed. I spread a few rumours that I've been growing somewhat disgruntled with my work at the Ministry as a put-upon peon."

"Psh," Minerva scoffed. "Peon head of the Department of Mysteries."

"Well _you_ and the other Unspeakables know this, but that's hardly common knowledge. I have that cheery little closet for an official office upstairs that says— oh what was it? Under-Secretary for the Secretary of the Department of Mysteries."

Minerva rolled her eyes.

"Anyway, I'll make sure to put a bug in his ear," Elph chuckled. "About time I put my mastery in potions to use in some way other than endlessly brewing Dittany for your sorry arses."

Minerva huffed. "I'll have you know, I was not the one who returned from a mission with third-degree burns every week, thank you very much."

"No, no," Elph acquiesced. "That was Raymond, but still. You know what I mean, Minerva."

"Two Unspeakables at Hogwarts?" Minerva purred. "Whatever will Hogwarts manage to do with them all?"

"Three now," Elph said, pointing his thumb to the sleeping Hermione. "We extracted her old Animagus Registry gem and sealed it away in the Unspeakable records. Her official documents are sealed under the Unspeakable confidentiality protections. The only ones who will know the details of her past will be those in our department. To everyone else, she is merely your daughter and apprentice. Amongst us and our department, she is one of us. Coltsfoot even gave her a call sign after he learned her Animagus form."

"Oh?" Minerva perked.

"Whisperwings," Elph chuckled. "Fitting Apprentice and partner for Unspeakable Hushpad, hrm?"

Minerva mumbled a number of imprecations in Gaelic.

"Hey, now, that is not fair, Minerva," Elph laughed.

"Mam says you need to be taken out in the back like a rug, thrown over a rock, and beaten for giving her that odious name," Hermione murmured sleepily, attempting to rub her eyes into wakefulness.

Elph clutched at his heart, feigning a mortal wound. "My heart, it bleeds."

"Here are your official apprenticeship pins, Unspeakable Whisperwings," Elph said with a grin. "Your Unspeakable credentials are charmed into your seventh vertebrae as per protocol and are undetectable by any other than those like yourself. You will recognise any and they you when out in the field, that you may know those you can trust implicitly. Minerva is your master and your partner. She will teach you everything you need to know, and once I am in place as the next Potion Master for the start of next term, I will be the handler for you both. Once our specialists to through the Pensieve memories, they will consult me so we can decide a plan of action that prevents the calamity of the Second Wizarding War but also does not unintentionally wipe families off the face of history. I urge you to wait on any plan of action save those that are of utmost lifesaving immediacy until you have consulted with me, and if that is not possible, you must at least consult with Minerva. Is this clear?"

Hermione nodded.

Elph smiled. "Now, in regards to Mr Snape, who shares a bond with you that is pre-existing, you will be allowed to communicate with him. We have cleared him to know your full and true history, and we will not be sending out the Obliviators for him. As for what you tell him, I have a plan that may help with his situation, provided Slughorn plays his part to plan. I will be in contact with you as soon as it happens. You will not be permitted to speak to him about Unspeakable business until my plan has been completed, and I will tell you at once when it is."

Hermione seemed to ponder something hard and then nodded in agreement.

"I appreciate your discretion, Whisperwings," Elph said. "Your Unspeakable credentials will allow you pass the wards that permit you into this part of the Ministry as well as any other high-security access areas. It will not, however, protect guests even if you are in physical contact with them, so be aware of this if you are trying to rush someone in for their protection. We have multiple safe zones throughout the building, which Minerva will be briefing you on. We will use this summer for the majority of your essential basic training, so you will know your fellow Unspeakables by heart, our callsigns, our safe-houses, and our protocols for handling both time-related objects, artifacts, dark materials, and blood magic. You are answerable to both Minerva and to me. If there is a matter of sensitivity and you are approached by Aurors, you are to maintain complete silence unless the Aurors in question are confirmed to be on our safe list. If you are arrested, hang tight, and you will be released the moment your name shows up on the log through official channels. Deadly spells are authorised only when in life-threatening situations, however, do not let them try and kill you while attempting to confirm if your situation is indeed life-threatening. We will debrief you once a week when you not assigned to a current mission, but once I am in place, it may be more often as so to cover both of our backs. Are we good?"

Hermione let out a soft noise that sounded rather like an owlish hoot.

Elph grinned. "Too much at once, I'm sure. Considering you just woke up only this morning. Minerva, please take your poor daughter home and see that she gets some sleep. Oh— I need to put this around your ankle, Hermione. It will mark you as a Ministry owl, which will get you into every place you need to be without having to shift forms. This is in case you are flying in messages for Minerva, myself, or yourself.

Hermione fluttered up into her medium-sized brown-and-cream Northern saw-whet owl form and perched on Elph's extended arm with a beaky yawn. She stuck out her leg.

Elph snapped the identification band onto her scaly leg and the flash of magic instantly fused it to her. "There we go. All official. Now, this is your first order."

Hermione turned her head all the way around to stare at him over her back in a very unnerving owlish manner.

"Go home and make sure Minerva gets a good night's sleep," Elph ordered.

Hermione hooted in owlish amusement as she flew over to perch on Minerva's shoulder. She nipped Minerva's earring, tugging on it slightly.

"Ach!" Minerva complained, glaring at Elphinstone.

"Goodnight," Elph said warmly, waving them off. "See you both next term."

Minerva muttered more rude things in Gaelic as she swept from the room, taking her chuckling owlish daughter with her.

Elph sighed. "I _know_ cursing when I hear it, Minerva!"

* * *

Rita Skeeter had a problem.

It was the kind of problem only someone with her specific abilities had.

She had a psychotic, maniacal, avian menace after her.

Never in her life had she ever had a problem sneaking into Hogwarts to get the latest scoop, and someone had tipped her off about some really juicy news going on involving some high-profile Gryffindor students, all while Headmaster Dumbledore was off galavanting around Europe looking for a new DADA instructor. Everyone _knew_ that position was bloody well cursed, so good luck there, Headmaster.

No, her problem was that this particular owl had it in for her. Worse still, the owl's attitude was apparently contagious and was rapidly spreading over to the other Hogwarts owls. Rita had no less than ninety-odd owls of various shapes, species, and sizes seeking her out everywhere she tried to go and making a very, very, loud and attention-getting fuss about it.

A part of her brain noted that owls had been know to eat beetles along with other insects, and she really shouldn't be surprised by this behaviour, but she had always managed to remain unseen before. Not this time, no. Something had definitely changed.

The somewhat smaller owl, at least in comparison to the school's eagle, horned, screech, tawny, snowy, and barred owls, was just large enough to be dangerous and just small enough to find her right there in every single nook and cranny she tried to scramble to and hide in. Her sharp talons scraped against the stone tile, wood, curtains, and whatever else she tried to hide in just like a bloody beetle-seeking radar, every time coming scant millimeters away from impaling her with those extremely sharp-looking talons.

The owl screeched, hooting in such obvious rage that Rita couldn't even imagine what had so pissed the bird off.

A flurry of bright orange and red feathers landed nearby to inspect her with a curious warble.

Oh great. Now the flaming bird was in on it. Oh, glorious. Bloody _fantastic_ , even.

Dumbledore's phoenix was peering at her intently as she burrowed herself into a small crack in the stone, shoving herself up as close to the back as she could possibly get. She had nowhere else to go.

The brown-and-cream owl hooted and screeched, her claws swiping the air, only a hair away from her delicate antennae. Once, they even caught one, breaking off the very tip. Rita screamed, but as a beetle it came out as a strange rattling noise. She couldn't change back and show the owl who was boss. She was crammed tightly into a bloody crack. It would _not_ end well for her.

Fawkes, the flaming bird of nosiness, gently nudged the owl to the side so he could peer into the crack with his beady black eye. He focused in on Rita, and suddenly, Rita realized that the phoenix knew _exactly_ what she was.

Damn _all_ magical birds!

She didn't even have a good juicy story to go home with! This was utterly unbearable! They should just let members of the press in freely so she didn't have to sneak in all the time. Then, she wouldn't have to find herself staring down a sharp beak and equally sharp talons to get her story.

A smaller owl appeared— a smaller Scops owl. It hooted excitedly, and joined in the fray. Smaller, and if it was even possible, sharper claws were thrust into the crack and scraped Rita down the side of her head.

Owls were like bleeding SHARKS!

A barred owl landed with a soft thud, talons clicking on the stone. His larger talons did not fit into the crack, and Rita sighed with relief until she realised the owl was not trying to fit into the crack as much as it was trying to expand the crack.

What the _hell_!?

Didn't these owls have something better to be doing like, say, actually delivering the mail? Maybe she should have taken that assignment spying on the Minister tonight. Hogwarts was a serious bust. She needed to get out of here _fast_!

Ten sets of owlish eyes stared fixedly at her through the very small crack. A half-fledged fluffy owlet landed and pushed through the crowd to peer into the crack.

Oh great. Now it was a family affair. Bring your kids, owls! All the excitement all in own crack. _Damn_ it all!

"Augustine! There you are!" A boy called from down the hall. "What are you— are you having a convention in here?" A young wizard scooped up the scops owl that had so thoroughly trashed Rita's face. The little owl hooted in protest, but the boy scratched the bird on the chest with his fingers distracting him. He pulled out a bag of owl nuts and suddenly every owl was very, very interested.

Every owl but _one_.

Baleful amber eyes glowed at her— or glowered at her, she wasn't sure precisely which. The boy lifted the glaring owl up.

"Come on now, I'm sure whatever mouse you really wanted has lots of friends that are far more accessible," the wizard chuckled. The glowering owl squirmed in protest, but didn't bite or set her talons on the boy.

It was perfectly _polite_ to humans. Psh.

Red and orange feathers fluttered as the phoenix fluttered off out the window. The boy had the most offensive owl in his lap and was trying to offer it an owl nut. The damnable bird seemed to nibble at it respectfully but not with the same enthusiasm as the other owls. It took the nut in its beak and offered it to the fluffy owlet, who gobbled it up with a happy clicking noise.

Rita knew now was the time. She busted out of the crack and took to the air, flying out the open window with a loud buzzing noise.

She realised her mistake as about ten sets of owl eyes turned to focus on the noise.

Oh, Merlin, _no_!

Rita flew as fast as her tiny wings could carry her. She didn't stop until she reached Hogsmeade, flew into the crack in the Three Broomsticks' upper window and haphazardly buzzed down the staircase. So focused on the door, Rita completely missed Rosmerta crossing the tavern floor with a large tray of butterbeer mugs and an oversized pitcher. Rita smacked right into Rosmerta and dazedly bounced back, only to land smack into the pitcher of butterbeer with a sploosh.

"Merlin!" Rosmerta exclaimed, utterly mortified. "I will be _right_ back with a fresh pitcher of butterbeer, lads!"

She rushed to the back and slammed the beetle-infested pitcher down in the large slop sink, causing it to tip over and drain. Rosmerta rushed off to deliver another, clean pitcher to her patrons as Rita drunkenly crawled out of the pitcher, her antennae whirling in all directions as her body dripped with sticky-sweet butterbeer.

That was _it_ , Rita decided. Her next article was going to be on the dangers of butterbeer. And owls. She wanted all owls banned from Hogwarts.

_Hic_.

* * *

_**Owls Are Vicious, Evil Birds That Have No Place Near Children!** _

_Owls are ruthless predators, ladies and gentle-wizards! We see them every day delivering mail, but who really knows what goes on in the minds of these ruthless predators! These are not the kind of animals we should have around our children!_

_Did you know that Hogwarts allows owls, cats, and toads as approved familiars? If a cat or a toad decides it doesn't like you, it tends to run the other direction as any lesser animal should, but owls? No. Owls have talons that can maim and tear flesh to pieces, just as easily as paper. What if one suddenly went mental and attacked a child?_

_I encourage the public to write to Hogwarts and demand to have owls banned from the school before someone gets hurt! It's only a matter of time before they decide that delivering mail isn't good enough for them and set upon our innocent children to alleviate their boredom!_

* * *

_Letter to the Editor:_

_I am writing to complain about the Prophet article by Rita Skeeter attempting to encourage the public to write Hogwarts to ban owls from our noble school! Ludicrous! What ridiculous nonsense are you trying to publish at your paper? Owls have been our faithful companions since the ancient times. The cat and the owl are pivotal familiars in our history._

_If Ms Skeeter is having such serious problems with owls, then I question what she could possibly be doing to provoke them so!_

_Please keep this blatant trash-writer off the front page and in the rubbish bin where she belongs!_

_Angrily,_

_Master Wilhelm Waynewright_

* * *

_To the Editor:_

_As a business that has supplied hundreds of owls to young wizards and witches each year as well as the general Wizarding public, I am writing to express my disgust and distaste for your article condemning the noble owl as anything less than a spectacular and useful creature._

_As the sacred bird of Athena, a well-known apex predator, and a highly intelligent creature that gladly bears our mail across the world as well as serving us as companions and friends, I find Rita Skeeter's article to be complete tripe as well as utterly despicable. An owl treated well will be a faithful and affectionate companion for life._

_I advise your reporters to base their stories on actual facts instead of publishing such a pack of unsupportable lies about a creature that has done nothing but serve us faithfully throughout the ages as friend and familiar._

_Perhaps your paper should attempt to do without owls for the next month and see how well your paper gets delivered. Do let me know how well that goes for you. Better yet, just cancel my subscription to the Daily Prophet._

_Master Tyton Strix_

_Owner of Eeylops Owl Emporium_

* * *

Healer Arkenstone rubbed the area between his eyes in a habitual manner, causing a distinct crease to form between his eyebrows. Healer Ashbough stood beside him, her index finger twisting and tugging at a strand of her hair signalling her conflict.

"I don't like diagnosing a child with something this disturbing, Marcus," Ashbough sighed.

"He's right on the cusp, Janice," Arkenstone said, pinching his nose. "If we had one more year on him there would be no hesitation at all."

"But he's not," Ashbough protested. "It could still be fluctuating hormones, something caused by environmental stresses."

Arkenstone twitched. "We need to call in Healer Barnes to make the diagnosis. He specialises in this sort of lifespan-affecting psychosis. Barnaby is better with the nuances of the adolescent mind and mental health. If this boy was an adult, I _know_ what my answer would be."

Ashbough slumped. "I know. I know. I would too. Believe me. I just— he's only a kid, Marcus."

"A kid that stands a frighteningly high chance of murdering someone if certain conditions are met, Janice," he replied grimly. "He has the ego-centrism, the self-direction, the lack of empathy, intimacy dysfunction— and he's extremely manipulative. He tried to convince one of the assistant trainees to bring him his wand because he felt insecure without it. He's deceitful to the point where he can't remember what he told us yesterday. He has no regard for the feelings or safety of others, has no guilt at all for anything he does, no matter how blatantly harmful it may be. During the interview he tried to attack Healer Fontaine. He has complete disinhibition. He's irresponsible, shockingly impulsive, and loves risk taking. If this boy was seventeen or even eighteen there would be no question that he would be a grave danger to everyone around him. My Muggle contacts in psychology would be thinking I was reading straight from the diagnostic manual."

Ashbough frowned.

"If we let him go and something happens. Something horrible. Could you look yourself in the eyes after that? Could you look the victim in the eyes after that? Or their families?" Arkenstone asked, shaking his head. "I can't risk it, Janice. I will not sign off on him because he's a minor and then wake up to my copy of the Daily Prophet a month from now, or two years from now, telling me he's murdered someone."

Janice waved her hand. "Alright, I concede," she sighed. "You're right. All I see in there is one really messed-up kid that I desperately want to somehow grow out of it."

Marcus put his hand on her shoulder. "Sadly, some of them we simply cannot save. Sometimes we can only save others from them."

Janice nodded sombrely. "I'll send word to Barnaby that we need him to perform a full assessment of the boy."

"I'll send word to Hogwarts informing them that they will not be getting their student back any time soon," Marcus said grimly. "In the meantime, we need to find a way to convince him to at least take a shower. He hasn't allowed us to switch him into a gown since he got here, and when Healer Fontaine touched his left arm, he went beserk."

Janice shook her head. "Once Healer Barnes checks him out, we can try a administering a sedative to try and calm him down, Worse comes to worse, we use a few cleansing spells, but I would rather not in case the spell-casting triggers somethingeven worse."

"One step at a time, my friend," Arkenstone recommended.

* * *

_**Renowned Mind Healer Barnaby Barnes In Intensive Care** _

_**After Patient Slams His Head Violently Against Wall for "His Lord"** _

_Healer Barnes, who has made a lifetime out of helping ill and troubled Wizarding teens was brutally attacked by a young patient during a mental health assessment. The patient, whose name has not been released due to his being a minor, apparently lost control of his temper during the interview, threw himself bodily at the healer, and then proceeded to slam the man's head into the wall repeatedly before security personnel were able to restrain him._

_Said patient apparently painted his arm with the Healer's blood while crying out in the throes of ecstasy, claiming he was now one with his Lord and Master forever and that he had "proven the depth of his devotion." Horrified staffers who witnessed the attack testified that they saw the blood soak into his arm and then blacken into a horrible, writhing skull and snake tattoo that seemed to move under the skin like an actual serpent. Rumour has it that it is the very same tattoo that has been found on captured confirmed Death Eaters, the loyal Knights of Walpurgis, also known as the loyal servants of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named._

" _This is very disturbing," Auror Walcott Slora said shortly after arriving on the scene to confirm the use of Dark Magic. "This strange mark seems to tied to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and apparently encourages compliance in his followers via a pleasurable award for performing heinous activities. The darker the act, the more powerful the high, if you will, but the key to obtaining permanence seems to be bathing it in blood—human blood."_

_Healer Arkenstone could only shake his head in dismay at this truly horrifying turn of events. "If I hadn't seen the mark solidify with my own eyes, I would not have believed it. It was like his skin was somehow hollow, waiting to be filled like a cup, and then the blood just slithered over his skin and burrowed into it, twisting and writhing like a handful of worms. It turned black. So, so, black. The smell was like that of decaying, rotting flesh. And all the while, he was smiling from ear-to-ear with such intense joy like he'd just been given the key to a vault with an endless supply of gold."_

_Healer Janice Ashbough, Arkenstone's colleague, had to be escorted away from the crime scene to recover. The event had apparently traumatised her to the point of babbling incoherently. The only thing she said that could be understood was, "He's just a child. A child. Just a child."_

_Healer Barnaby Barnes is said to be stable but he is not receiving visitors until his condition improves._

* * *

**A/N:** *shudder* I'm going to go cuddle with my Squishable Cerberus and think happy thoughts.


	3. Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

**A/N:** So… tired...

**Beta Love:** The Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01

* * *

**Time for a Change**

**Chapter 3**

**Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes**

" _A question that sometimes drives me hazy:_

_am I or are the others crazy?"_

_\- Albert Einstein_

* * *

" _Mo nighean_ ," Minerva whispered, placing a hand on Hermione's shoulder.

Hermione yawned owlishly, her eyes looking very round and sleepy as one would expect of the owl she was in the early hours of morning. She made a soft hooting noise and attempted to burrow back under the covers again.

Minerva chuckled. "Come on now. Nay it ever be said that a McGonagall couldn't wake up in the morning and have a hundred things done before the rest of the world figured out where the loo was. Up now."

Hermione made a disappointed hooting sound from under the covers.

"You, _mo nighean_ , are not an burrowing owl," Minerva snorted.

Hermione yawned as she slid out from under the covers with a sleepy open mouth she only barely managed to cover with the back of her hand. Three other owls shuffled out from under the covers, having apparently shared the warmth under the duvet with her in the early morning.

Minerva's eyebrows rose into her hair. " _Tha thu teaghlach, mo nighean_ ," the Scottish witch sighed. "Truly you are family if you are collecting allies amongst the owls only days since your arrival."

Hermione made a soft clicking noise and thunked her head against Minerva's shoulder.

"What had you up all night, hrm?" Minerva asked.

Hermione extended her hand as a piece of parchment floated to her hand from the desk.. "I figured it out, mam," she murmured drowsily. "I used the retrace circle in combination with deconstruction charm." She pulled out the wand Minerva had given to tie her over until they could get to Ollivanders and get her one of her own. She waved it to write a bunch of diagrams and equations in the air with magic. The golden writing hung in the air for Minerva to see. "They embedded an _Homonculous_ charm into the parchment triggered by the password phrase, but it also has a certain amount of recognition about it. If you cast a revealing charm upon it, it will represent itself with a fake ink diagram with personal insults. Depending on how they felt about you at the time they cast it, the insults could be generic or _very_ specific."

Hermione held out the map. "Go ahead, try doing a revealing charm on it."

Minerva arched one brow and tapped her wand to the parchment, uttering the revealing charm.

_Mr Moony presents his compliments to Professor McGonagall and kindly reminds her that curiosity killed the cat._

_Mr Prongs agrees with Mr Moony and would to add that Professor McGonagall might be better served enjoying some nice catnip._

_Mr Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that Professor McGonagall is not already about chasing mice at this hour._

_Mr Wormtail bids Professor McGonagall a good day and advises her to let her hair down once in awhile. That tight bun can't be doing your scalp any favours._

Minerva was laughing despite herself.

Hermione grinned at her pleasantly.

"So, what does this thing do when it isn't insulting me?" Minerva snorted.

Hermione tapped the map with her wand. "I do solemnly swear I am up to no good."

The map unfurled in a flurry of motion, inking itself into completion. Minerva's eyes widened.

"Well, now at least I know why they were paying particular attention in Filius' class as well as mine," she whistled softly. "Pity so much talent came packaged together with such appalling behaviour." Minerva tilted her head. "Can you replicate it?"

Hermione looked very much the cat that ate the canary, or at least, the owl that ate the pesky beetle.

" _Mo nighean_ —" Minerva tsked.

Hermione grinned broadly at her mam and handed her another parchment.

Minerva whistled, very much impressed. "You are permitted to sleep in tomorrow."

Hermione laughed and thunked her head against her mam's chest.

"If I may… recommend," Hermione began.

Minerva gave her a very feline look.

"Give them their little parchment back," Hermione suggested. "Now that I know how they anchored the spells to the parchment, I can add a few extra— gifts for them. If they use the password to activate the map, they might just activate a jinx that makes reading _any_ map a very creative experience."

Minerva narrowed her eyes, drumming her fingers against the side of her jaw. "I will message Elph and get authorisation. He will probably want details on what you learned on making the duplicate map."

Hermione tilted her head strangely.

"Hrm?" Minerva asked. "What's wrong?"

Hermione shook her head. "Nothing, it's just— odd to have a support system that doesn't involve me taking care of me and looking over my shoulder for the next assassin."

Minerva put her hand on Hermione's shoulder. "You are family, Hermione. We will take care of each other."

* * *

After all the drama went down following the incident out on the green and the subsequent dethroning of the Marauders from their heady pedestal of hero worship, Severus hadn't been able to see Professor McGonagall at all in weeks. It wasn't that he hadn't thought about it, but Lily was being unusually clingy in a way she had never been before. She practically wanted an escort to the loo, and if any Gryffindor came her way, she would get a strange look of profound anxiety that made her hair rise up with accidental magic.

Severus knew he couldn't just walk up to McGonagall's office without some sort of official reason with Lily clinging to him like a burr, but the need to do so was beginning to really annoy him and make him increasingly cranky. Okay, well, crankier than usual. It wasn't just anyone that the Deputy Headmistress had waiting to see him in all likelihood. It was the one his family ring had chosen as— It just figured that now that he really _wanted_ to be left to his own devices, Lily would choose to follow him around like a baby duck. That is, if a baby duck could continuously spew horrible details about how much it hated entitled toerags.

When the Prophet came in encouraging people to rid Hogwarts of owls, Lily actually said it made sense. Owls _were_ dangerous predators. Severus shook his head and kept his mouth shut save to refer her to go read the books on owls as familiars from the library before letting anyone else hear her say anything as silly as that. Privately, he hoped she remained quiet. The owls were terribly intelligent, and the last thing they needed was owls holding a grudge against Lily. She'd be getting pieces of her mail and having to wash owl shite from her hair if she wasn't careful.

Suddenly, a small cream-and brown-owl flew in seemingly on a mission, and it swooped over Lily's hair, banked, and then looked for a place to land. They were out in the middle of the green, however, so the only place to land was on them short of the ground, and Lily was freaking out, waving her hands around like she was fending off a voracious swarm of giant mosquitoes.

"Lily, do I need to escort you to the infirmary for a calming draught?" Severus quipped. "It's only an owl, not a plague-ridden flying rat."

Lily's expression told all. Part of her _was_ indeed expecting a rat, flying or otherwise, and it wasn't a kind or benevolent sort of rat.

Peter Pettigrew's fate, which hadn't yet been spelled out officially by the paper, had inspired an almost irrational fear of the Rodentia order in many. If they weren't afraid of the actual rodent per se, they were afraid the rodent was a hidden Animagus. Really, it only took one bad apple to contaminate the whole bunch by association.

The cautionary tale of Wormtail, which had become Peter's commonly-spoken moniker, had caused a flurry of absolute panic among those in the student body. There were those who didn't want to be affiliated with anything that might even _smell_ like a Death Eater, there were those who were frantically trying to not _look_ like a Death Eater, and there were others who seemed to think wearing long sleeved shirts in the increasingly warm weather was perfectly acceptable.

The Marauders, who had once been the untouchable merry pranksters who everyone thought could get away with even murder, were suddenly the focus of quite a bit of nervous distrust. No one wanted to sit near them, let alone with them, anymore. After all, Peter was one of _them_ and he was a newly-minted Death Eater too.

Even more ironic, Gryffindor was now being treated with the very same suspicion that arrogant Gryffindors had once foisted upon everyone and everything Slytherin. The once-favoured sons and daughters of Hogwarts were now having to prove themselves in much the same ways the Slytherin did— by deed and action, rather than by their house's reputation. Their reputation was already bad enough now.

Crabbe and Goyle, who had been actively trying to get Lucius to join them on an excursion to some sort of exclusive club that had secret meetings well after curfew and involved sneaking out to use the floo network to some unknown and obscure place that they refused to even describe, abruptly stopped. Lucius, who confided to Severus that he was never much of a fan of such secret clubs, thanks to his father dragging him along to some truly ghastly ones throughout his young life. Mulciber and Avery had come back from one of those secret club meetings looking like they had been to a brawl— black eyes, and welts going down their face and every other visible part of their bodies. What was even more disturbing was the look of blissed-out vacancy in Mulciber's eyes. Each time they returned, Mulciber became more and more vacant in that strange and fanatical happy way.

"It must be drugs," Lucius observed as he and Severus sat on one of the common room's couches, studying. "I want _nothing_ to do with the likes of them."

After Avery started behaving strangely as well, Lucius started herding the first years to bed even earlier to ensure that they wouldn't risk running into any of the secret club's returning members.

The final straw was when Avery and Mulciber dragged a sobbing Regulus Black back from one of the "parties." The boy was disheveled, filthy, and utterly petrified. He stank of his own urine, and he was caked with dirt and gravel where he had obviously been dragged across it to some fate only he could have told them. Lucius had enough. He set protective wards over all of the younger students' dorms from all but those who were assigned there and, naturally, Hogwarts staff. Lucius dragged Avery and Mulciber, who were far too "happy"to be caught, off to Slughorn and threw them down at the elder Slytherin's feet with a disgusted string of verbal epithets, charging his head of house to deal with the sick bastards… or else _he_ would, rules and regulations be damned.

Slughorn's eyes had gone wide at the all-too-vivid description of what had happened, and as his hand went to pull the boys off the ground where Lucius had thrown them, his hand came back covered in blood.

There, on the their left arms, pale and pristine save in a single area where a black, writhing mark lay just under the skin, was stark, glaring evidence of _exactly_ what kind of "club" they had been attending so fanatically.

Avery and Mulciber seemed beyond ecstatic about their branded arms. Their eyes were practically rolled back in their heads in sheer bliss as they spouted devout praises to their awesomely powerful Dark Lord. Regulus, they said, would come to understand very soon.

That confession, of course, resulted in Professor Slughorn promptly stunning and restraining the two students before hauling the pair of them off to the Infirmary as he summoned the other heads of house. Lucius helped fetch a badly-shaken Regulus from his dorm and brought him down for a health check. Then Crabbe and Goyle had suddenly not shown up for roll call, the evening meal, and had not even turned up for breakfast the day after.

That had been the first day he had seen _**her**_ after _that_ day, the day he had carried her unconscious body to Deputy Headmistress McGonagall's rooms.

The young witch had run up alongside the Deputy Headmistress, falling in line with her with automatic precision. The moment they realised that Crabbe and Goyle were missing, the witch had sent out full-bodied otter Patronus zinging away as Professor McGonagall barked orders for people to be taken care of, children checked on, a head count taken, food and snacks provided, the dorms secured and the Auror office notified.

People had scurried off in all directions, but what Severus had noted most was that the Transfiguration professor barely said anything to the younger witch at her side, save her name.

_Hermione_.

Then, McGonagall made a few silent gestures and jutted her chin, and Hermione was off without even a moment spared to question.

Pure, unconditional obedience. Severus couldn't even say he obeyed his mother with that sort of faith. She'd married an alcoholic bastard that beat her on a regular basis. It was hard to have faith in a person you couldn't even trust to take care of their own child.

Hermione returned in a few minutes flanked by two Aurors and a grim-looking man who made Severus' father look like a kind and gentle sort. She spewed out a chain of something he'd never heard before. McGonagall seemed to know exactly what she was saying, redirected her attentions, and then barked something out in the same strange language.

With that, Hermione just walked straight through the door into the Slytherin common room to where Regulus was practically climbing the walls to get away from any and everyone who could see him in such a distressed and improper state.

It was then that Severus _knew_ that the witch had known battle and those who had been traumatised by it. Her demeanor changed instantly. To the casual eye, perhaps no one would have noticed, but Severus had spent his childhood learning how one tense lip or nervous twitch could mean being backhanded by his father. He _knew_ hair-triggered stress, and clearly, so did _she_.

Severus came in closer to listen to her speak. Her voice was soft, but clear. She quietly asked Regulus for permission to treat him, pulling out the vials from her dark green velvet robes that looked so much like McGonagall's, even down to the tartan weave of her sash. She shook them, explaining what they were, and then, after sniffing them with an automatic gesture of familiarity, sipped each one before giving it to Regulus.

It was a gesture of one who knew _exactly_ what a traumatised, untrusting person would need. Regulus coughed and nodded, but when she tried to stand up to give him room, Regulus clutched at her arm and hand frantically, his eyes wide and whirling with terror. Hermione soothed him, gently touching his hand. She stayed with him until the medication relaxed him, telling him he had to be moved, but she would stay beside him until she got him there.

Regulus gave the witch such a look of pure gratitude that Severus felt a pang of sympathy. Lucius knelt beside her.

"I am Lucius," he introducing himself. "Lucius Malfoy."

"I heard it was because of you that things did not become any worse, Mr Malfoy. I thank you for that," she said, her voice thick with a very familiar lilt. "I am Hermione McGonagall."

Lucius tilted his head graciously and then nodded. "Many would not lift a finger to help any Slytherin, Miss McGonagall. I have heard you have come far due to tragic circumstances. You have my sincere condolences on the deaths of your parents. You helped Regulus. He is not one to trust often or easily, for reasons much like what happened here tonight. For that, I thank you."

Hermione's head lifted, her eyes strangely unreadable as if cast in obsidian. Then, suddenly, they were warmer. "You are welcome, Mr Malfoy."

"Lucius," he said after a moment. "If I ever end up flat on my back with you feeding me potions, I would prefer you called me by my given name."

Hermione snorted and closed her eyes. "Hermione," she said. "Unless I am teaching you in class, Mr Malfoy. Then, even when you are flat on your back and I am feeding you potions while teaching you the Transfiguration alphabet, it will remain 'Mr Malfoy'."

Lucius laughed, and it was a strangely a warm and genuine sound. "As my lady commands," Lucius chuckled as he helped her move Regulus to the infirmary.

Severus had stood completely boggled at how in the course of less than an hour, all hell had broken loose, yet Lucius Malfoy had somehow… made a new friend?

The reason why Crabbe and Goyle hadn't been seen for a number of days soon became readily apparent. They had been beaten half-to-death and hadn't made it back to the school. Their unconscious, half-drained bodies were found just inside the Hogwarts' gates. Aurors fell upon them only seconds before the healers, and they dragged them a few feet past the gates to Apparate them directly to St Mungo's to avoid the problem of rushing them up to the overcrowded and understaffed infirmary with no empty beds to be found.

Surprise, surprise. Both of them had the writhing black mark of the skull and serpent crawling beneath their skin. News of _that_ hit the papers and was spread all over Britain before the ink had even dried. Overworked, exhausted owls were using Hogwarts as a rest stop to recoup in-between deliveries to the upper half of Scotland. He could only imagine what was happening down in mainland UK.

Silvanus Kettleburn, the Professor for Care of Magical Creatures, had set up a special shelter for the waystationing owls with special high-energy rations and clean water set out for them. He did it for every crisis that cropped up, from inclement weather to news explosions. The owls seemed to appreciate Kettleburn's thoughtful efforts on their behalf, and sometimes, they seemed to repay him by delivering him his mail off-schedule in the middle of the night. Whether that was a boon or a curse, Severus wasn't really sure.

Headlines from " _ **Do You Know Where Your Children Are?"**_ to " _ **Hogwarts Unsafe?"**_ to " _ **Voldemort and His Death Eaters Want Your Children Too!"**_ and all sorts of other truly frightening headlines came in on a near-hourly basis.

Strangely, however, it was because of the quick actions of the Deputy Headmistress and the rest of the Hogwarts staff as well as summoning the Aurors immediately that caused the headlines to die down. Headlines such as " _ **Competent Staff Proven Heroes at Hogwarts"**_ trickled in along with " _ **Danger is Everywhere, But At Hogwarts, You At Least Stand a Chance!"**_ They weren't exactly the best headlines for morale, but at least they weren't mudslinging and scaremongering articles written by the estimable Rita Skeeter. Lucius was the spokesman for the Slytherin students, standing by Slughorn as they detailed that everyone had worked together to handle the crisis, and that was all that mattered. They and the representatives from Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and even the reluctant Gryffindors agreed that things were much better when everyone worked together.

Apparently, even the Houses could eat crow and manage to survive.

The Board of Governors, while acknowledging that Dumbledore was off tending to official business, praised Minerva for her swift and effective actions and for encouraging teamwork amongst the staff and students from all houses. They gave her their full, unwavering support, a hefty raise, and authorisation to expand her woeful office, quarters, and apprentice quarters. Severus noticed her lean and whisper to Hermione, "Well, my dear, it looks like you don't have to sleep on a perch in my closet anymore."

He was _fairly_ sure she was just kidding.

Hermione had replied without a single beat missed, "Well, _màthair_ , you'll finally be able to take a proper bath instead of attempting to bathe in the sink."

Severus was pretty sure _she_ was just kidding too. It was getting rather hard to tell for sure.

All this drama came down to the fact that Lily wasn't really all that interested in hanging out with her Gryffindor gang nearly as much as she used to, and that was making it extremely hard for him get back to meet Hermione officially. At this rate, all of bloody Slytherin would be on a first name basis with her before he could pry Lily off of his person and take a deep breath. The irony wasn't lost on him.

The cream and brown saw-whet owl hooted in clear irritation, foiled from landing on an arm or shoulder or at least something remotely perch-like. Severus held out his arm invitingly, and the owl promptly landed on it with a soft, appreciative hoot and a clack of her beak. She thrust a leg out that had a rolled parchment tied to it, right into Lily's startled face.

Lily untied the string around the parchment and unrolled it, scanning it with her eyes quickly. "Professor Flitwick wants to speak with me about a project I wanted to do for Professor Slughorn." There was the first bit of true excitement in her voice Severus had heard out of her since "the incident."

"You don't mind if I go, do you, Sev?" Lily asked.

Severus shook his head. "You've been trying to get Professor Flitwick to agree to speak with you for the entire last term. Why would I?"

Lily flashed a smile and stood on her tippy toes to kiss him on the tip of the nose. "Thanks, Sev." She scampered off, parchment clutched tightly in her hand.

The owl gave a soft hoot, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry, I don't have any owl nuts for you," Severus apologised.

The owl hooted in seeming unconcern, butting his shoulder affectionately with her head.

"Are you Professor Flitwick's owl?" he asked, gently stroking her feathers with his thumb.

The owl clacked her beak. She scratched her face with her talons.

Severus eyed the identification band on her right leg and fought the desire to facepalm. Of course. Idiot.

He fingered the identification band.

"Aura, eh?"

The owl hooted softly.

"Greek roots on that one, I think, but I could be wrong," Severus said, scratching the owl under the chin with his finger.

She grasped his finger in her beak and worried on it painlessly.

Severus chuckled. "You have a lot of identification numbers on this band. You must be a Ministry owl."

Aura let out an owlish sigh and seemed to shrug slightly, using her foot to scratch an itch behind her facial disc. She tugged on his collar and his hair, fluttering her wings as she hooted little insistently.

"Hrm?" Severus questioned.

She tugged on his collar again and fluttered her wings.

Severus looked into the owl's intelligent eyes.

A rustling nearby startled him, and then Aura took off in a flutter of wingbeats, sailing off and up to one of Hogwarts' high towers. The owl disappeared into one of the hospital wing windows. Now that Lily was off doing her things, he should probably go and visit Regulus and then hopefully, finally, get back to Professor McGonagall and Hermione, the witch he had yet to meet in any official manner since she literally dropped in on his life.

* * *

Severus found Regulus lying quietly in his hospital bed. Lucius tugged him by the sleeve to sit with him by the door.

"They are drawing out the poisoned magic," Lucius said. "It's enough to make you swear off You-Know-Who for life. Why anyone would willingly choose to brand that sort of abomination on their own body is beyond me."

Severus frowned. "He was marked?"

Lucius nodded. "It's the unblooded mark," Lucius confirmed. "Avery and Mulciber were apparently acting on his parents' wishes when his brother 'refused to accept his responsibilities as the elder son'. They told him if he didn't take the mark, they would disown Sirius from the family."

Severus flinched. "Somehow I don't think you mean that in the no Christmas holidays together sort of disown."

Lucius sighed. "It's the burn you off the family tree and forever blackening your name from the family kind of disown. Regulus thought he could take it. He had no idea what the mark really was or the perversion of magic that went into it. I didn't either. I suspected… but Regulus confirmed it and more."

Severus frowned. "Are you okay?"

Lucius's eyebrows crinkled, but he shook his head. "I'll be okay. It's just," he said, pausing, "in my head."

Severus nodded and quietly stared down at the floor.

"My father wanted me to support the Dark Lord," Lucius confessed. "Told me it was my duty to see that the Purebloods remained in power. Now he's in Azkaban, as mad as a March hare. He gets worse and worse every time we hear about him. I swear it's the mark, Severus. It truly _ends_ you. Whatever goodness you might have inside before you take that mark gets destroyed, bit by bit, until only the lust for the darkness remains— and the desire to serve You-Know-Who. You know how Mulciber was at first. Shy, bit of a bookworm? Then one day, we caught him torturing that rat he found in the dungeon classroom with that wild, blissful expression on his face."

Severus shuddered.

Regulus let out a sharp scream of agony as a healer from St Mungo's worked on him. Madam Pomfrey was assisting, holding his arm steady as he worked. Regulus was thrashing about violently, his body arching as a vile black substance oozed its way out of Regulus' very pores. The terrible, rotting stench was enough to make you gag, and many were doing exactly that. Lucius was turning an unhealthy shade of green, and he almost didn't make it to the rubbish bin nearby. Severus dove for another that was in the opposite direction. They both hugged their bins tightly as their stomachs rebelled and diaphragms spasmed.

Suddenly, someone was singing— her soft voice reminding him of the quiet tones one would use while singing to themselves, yet the words were laced with powerful magic. Severus looked up to see Hermione with Regulus' hand in hers as she sang some sort of healing spell. Regulus' eyes were locked on Hermione's as his free hand clenched hers so hard that his knuckles were turning white, but Hermione didn't seem to notice, or if she did, she said nothing about it. She just sang until Regulus weakly collapsed back into his bed and began to breathe normally.

The healer peered closely at Regulus' arm and nodded with satisfaction to Poppy Pomfrey, who bandaged it and let Regulus rest.

The healer placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Thank you, Apprentice McGonagall. If I may ask, where did you learn that particular healing spell?"

Hermione looked wistful. "A dear friend was the spellcrafter. He created it and realised that it wasn't enough to simply say the words. One had to _sing_ it."

"I would dearly love to learn it, if you would be so kind. It is one of the few spells I have ever seen that are capable of mending Dark Magic-induced wounds," the healer said.

"Of course, Healer Bradshaw. You would have to clear it with my master to schedule a time, but I think she will agree, it is something that should be made available to healers."

"I will do so immediately after I am finished here, Apprentice McGonagall," Healer Bradshaw said with a determined nod. "If you would not mind teaching a group of us together, it would save time and we could ask all of our questions at one time. If that pleases you, I will discuss that with her as well."

Hermione nodded in the affirmative. "I would be happy to."

Bradshaw smiled. "You are a very kind soul, Apprentice McGonagall. Perhaps, when you are finished with slaving away for Master McGonagall, you might consider healing."

Hermione bowed her head. "Ach," she said, a hint of her Scottish lisp trickling out. "I have me hands full enough just now, Heala' Bradshaw. I believe me dance card is full."

Bradshaw laughed merrily. "Doesn't hurt to try," he said fondly. "I heard about your parents, and I am sorry for it, but I cannot help but think that your arrival at this particular time helped people who would perhaps not have been so fortunate had you not been here. Tragedy is tragedy. I am very glad to have met you, regardless."

Hermione bowed her head respectfully. "Thank you."

"The dark taint has been completely drained from his arm," Bradshaw said. "He will feel rather weak for a few days, but at least we got to it before it could be fixed or take hold of his mind. Short of the occasional pain, he will not be clouded by any reminders of its taint. For that, I can only be grateful. Good Madam Pomfrey will take care of the rest and recovery part of his healing.

"Thank you, Healer Bradshaw," Hermione said with a nod.

The healer looked down at Regulus, his brow creasing with concern. "Young wizards and witches should not have such grave worries before their third decade, but I suppose we can't have everything. I must return to St Mungo's. I will away to speak with your master before I go. Be well."

Hermione nodded silently. She eyed the potion Pomfrey had left on the bedside table for her to give Regulus, who refused to accept his potions from anyone else.

Hermione shook the potion, unstoppered it, and sniffed it. She woke Regulus with a gentle touch, sipped the potion in full view, and then brought it to his lips. "It's a sleeping and pain draught, lad," she said gently. "It will help you sleep so you can heal."

Regulus sipped the draught from the lip of the flask and then lay back in the bed when she pulled it away. She didn't leave his side until he was asleep, pulled the blanket up over him, and cracked the window slightly to let in some fresh air from the outside.

Severus watched as she waved her hand near the window, and a small figurine of a flying swallow appeared in the window. As the wind passed by, it changed into a fragrant tropical breeze with just a hint of hibiscus. The entire infirmary seemed to heave a deep sigh of relief from so long being subjected to the combined odors of medical potions and stale air.

"Now isn't she a wonder, Severus," Lucius said, having missed nothing. "She is an honour to her family name. There will no Slytherin on my watch that holds her ill. She took care of ours with no question or hesitation. For that and more, she had earned our respect."

Severus could only nod dumbly in agreement.

"I will return to visit Regulus later, when he is not sleeping so soundly," Lucius said, standing up and stretching a bit. "I will see you again in the evening."

Severus inclined his head in response, silently agreeing.

Lucius spun and left, his feet barely making a sound as he retreated.

* * *

Hermione stood to leave the infirmary, and a wave of dizziness caught her— a combination of using complex magic, a somewhat younger than expected body, using a wand that wasn't hers specifically, and having just taking a hit from a powerful sleeping draught for Regulus to trust it wasn't poisoned was taking a toll on her. The floor became the ceiling, and she suddenly staggered forward, sideways, and backwards.

Bloody _hell_.

Suddenly, lean muscled arms were holding her, and she fell into a powerful, yet somewhat gangly embrace. Hermione stared up into concerned black eyes— so familiar to her.

"Severus," she breathed. Her hand went to touch his cheek, her eyes searching his as she almost reverently brushed his hair from his face. Her eyes filled with the most infinite longing. Then, suddenly, she dropped her hand as a wince of remembered pain filled her heart. "I apologise," she said breathily. "I had no right to be so familiar. Please, forgive me." She bit her lip, blinking back tears.

Severus cradled her speechlessly, his mind playing back the raw emotion he had seen in her eyes when she had looked at him. She had touched him with such tenderness and a sense of unconditional acceptance. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. He awkwardly let her down so she could stand up, but she was still a bit lightheaded and dizzy. He offered his arm for her to cling to, and she gratefully did so to steady herself.

Her hand transferred warmth through him that seemed to spread from his arm through his entire body— genuine and uncompromising warmth. "I'm Hermione," she said after a moment as they walked together away from the sleeping Regulus. "Hermione McGonagall. I'm sorry, mam told me you rescued me from drowning in the Black Lake. Thank you."

"I—" Severus stuttered. "It was nothing."

Hermione smiled with a slightly elevated dubious eyebrow. "I thank you all the same," she said.

Severus managed to forget every last bit of Slytherin manners Lucius had drilled into him as he just gaped at her like a fish out of water. "Sev— Severus. Snape." He shook his head, wanting to smack himself. "I'm Severus Snape."

Hermione smiled.

Again there was that flash of genuine warmth that seemed to spread all the way down to his toes.

"I must apologise for hanging onto you like an invalid," Hermione told him. "I am not normally such a frail person."

"I think a person who comes randomly crashing into a lake from places unknown is a circumstance that allows for… a little personal frailty," Severus commented, his lips twitching slightly.

Hermione scoffed lightly. "Aye, laddie, and sheep be fallin' from the skies soon enough." She seemed to realise what she had just said and stifled a small giggle. "Ach, it's stronger than it ever was before. I sound like I just fell off da turnip truck."

Hermione slumped, muttering several things in a language Severus did not know. He realised with some amusement, she could probably be cursing at him in it and he'd gladly take it just to hear the pleasing nuances of her voice. "Hazards of being a McGonagall," she said after a while, blowing a stray tendril of hair out of her whisky-coloured eyes.

They walked in silence for a time, seemingly headed back towards Gryffindor Tower, or rather to Professor McGonagall's office and quarters. Everything seemed low-key and natural until yelling and sounds of a fracas was made quite evident just before a spell came zinging just above Hermione's head, scorching a part of her hair.

Suddenly, Hermione McGonagall stiffened, back straightening, and eyes flashing dangerously. She released Severus' arm as fury gave her power, and she stormed straight towards the danger rather than away. But unlike another time when Severus would have accused her of being a foolhardy Gryffindor for doing such a thing, he realised she was Professor McGonagall's apprentice as well as her daughter. It was her sworn _duty_ to protect the students, even from their dunderheaded selves.

She stormed away from him like the personification of a cyclone, deflecting stray spells this way and that. Some of them struck the portrait wall, causing the portrait occupants to shriek and dive for cover in other, hopefully safer frames.

"What _**is**_ this? Are ya all _**daft**_? This is a proper school, not a dueling academy! There are _**children**_ hiding under the moving stairs! You there! Mr Connely! I hope you have a very good reason for trying to punch holes in five-century-old portraits and trying to take the hair off ma' head!" The angrier she got, the more her accent thickened and her voice descended deeper into what Severus was beginning to refer to as "McGonagallese."

"I uh…" the blond-haired boy in Gryffindor colours stammered, turning bright red in mixed anger and mortification. "Jennings called me mum a Death Eater."

Hermione seemed to be counting to ten to herself. "Regardless of such accusations, Mr Connelly, did he raise his wand to you? Did he cast a spell upon you? Touch you?"

Connelly flushed. "No, ma'am."

"Has he done so before? Hurt you? Touched you?"

"No, ma'am," he said, staring at his feet.

"And would you tell me, if he had truly hurt you?"

"Yes, ma'am, I would."

Hermione seemed to stare down the boy as if to evaluate his sincerity.

"Mr Jennings," Hermione said, her lilt quite thick. "That will be ten points from Ravenclaw for your use of such inflammatory language. Those words are not to be heard here in these halls amongst your fellow students, especially when used as insults. They are very _real_ threats out there. If I hear Death Eater, it had best be a very real sort of danger. It is not a term we use to insult our friend's friends or parentage. Am I quite _clear_ on this?"

"Yes, Apprentice McGonagall," Jenkins replied, staring shamefacedly at his own shoes.

"Mr Connelly," Hermione addressed, causing the boy in question to flinch. "Since you were recklessly flinging about spells in the halls, despite being provoked into doing so, you endangered a number of other students, and you blew the frame off of Augustus Finkelstein's portrait, shattering it to pieces. Gryffindor also loses twenty points for this episode."

"Now, for that offense, the both of you will serve detention with Argus Filch tonight and every night until he comes back to me both satisfied with your work and your display of appropriate behaviour. To be clear, since you cannot seem to get along without being inspired to do so, I am inspiring you now to be inspired on your own behalf. Prove to me that you _can_ work together and see past your differences. Rowena Ravenclaw and Godric Gryffindor were stalwart friends. So, too, were all of the founders. That includes Salazar Slytherin. Save the house rivalry for the Quidditch pitch and in the gaining of points, rather than counting who had the least taken off."

Both boys stared at their feet. "Yes, Apprentice McGonagall."

Hermione flicked her chin up. "Hurry up now. The dinner hour is fast approaching, and I will not keep you from it."

"Thank you, Apprentice McGonagall," they chimed and scurried off together, muttering apologies to each other as they went.

Hermione stood straight and tall until the students had left, and then she slumped heavily against the railing with exhaustion.

Severus gave her his arm. "Come, I'll walk you to your quarters."

* * *

It was only the second time that Severus had been in Professor McGonagall's quarters, but it seemed as though Hermione had found her way quite easily. Her hands drifted over the kettle with practiced movements, picking out the tea she desired from the tins without even bothering to look at the labels. She opened the lids of the tin containers sniffing each one with a happy expression not so unlike a cat trying out different strengths of catnip.

"Are you also a cat?" Severus asked, frowning at how casually he blurted out the question.

Hermione blinked and flushed slightly, seeming to realise just what she had done. "No," she chuckled. "I can assure you, a cat I am not." She spooned the tea into a sachet and placed it in the heated pot, pouring piping hot water over it. "I do, however, appreciate a good Irish tea from time to time, English as the case may be, and when I am feeling particularly sassy, Earl Grey."

When she seemed to think enough time had passed, she poured the tea in a cup for him, her hands automatically flicking in a sugar cube and just a hint of milk. She frowned at the cup as she handed it to him. "Sorry, I— let me know if you don't like it and I'll make you fresh cup."

Severus tilted his head and sipped the cup, eyebrows raising. "It's very good, thank you. It tastes like something I remember as a child. I've been trying to figure out how to make it for years, but I haven't managed to get it quite right yet."

Hermione's hand hesitated as she stirred. "An old friend taught me the blend," she said, sounding wistful. She looked at him with an intense fascination that made him blush slightly.

People just didn't look at him like _that_. Not _him_. Not _ever_.

He saw her finger the ring on her left ring finger, her eyes closing slightly as it slipped off easily at her touch. She may not have even realised what she did, for it was back on her finger and her eyes opened with a strange, solemn heaviness.

"You've probably been asked this many times already, but," Severus began, shuffling his feet slightly as he sipped his tea. "Where did you come from?"

Hermione drank her tea quietly, seemingly trying to decide what to say and where to start. "I was born originally September nineteenth, nineteen hundred and seventy-nine to two Muggle dentists. For ten years I grew up oblivious to the magical world, save for a few incidents that could never be explained."

Hermione sipped her tea and continued. "When I was eleven, I received my letter to Hogwarts like every other magical child. My parents were so proud and so baffled at the same time. They knew I was special, but they hadn't expected _that_."

"When I first rode on the train to Hogwarts, I met two people who would become my only real friends, and sometimes— sometimes I wondered if they were even that."

Hermione looked up at the ceiling, watching the firelight play on the stone. "Their names were Harry and Ronald, and Harry was a survivor. Ron, well, he was good friend to Harry, and Harry really needed friends. There was a prophecy, you see, and he was at the center of it. His parents were killed by the Dark Lord— He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, the man who was Tom Riddle, Heir of Slytherin. A Half-blood— cursed, some would say, a boy who grew into a cursed man or half-man. He was given good looks, charm, charisma, and a great talent for all things Slytherin. But the things he excelled at most were the traits that not every Slytherin possessed: a gift for parseltongue, a strong drive to obtain power and immortality at all costs, a talent for manipulation, and an ambition to become the most powerful Dark wizard of all time. He had the cunning and resourcefulness in droves, and he used it to turn all of the young he brought under his sway into willing pawns to achieve his goals. Those goals all focused on the one trait all Slytherins supposedly had: self-preservation."

Hermione tilted her head, looking much older and serious. There was no hate in her words or even the bias many had for Slytherin. She was very much matter-of-fact as she shared her story. "Because of his great affinity for Dark magic, Tom Riddle became a Dark Lord, and he killed off a great many people, both magical and Muggle, terrorizing all who would oppose him and using death to stave off his own death. Much like what happened here, he planted the seeds of corruption and loyalty to himself very early; and then, once they were permanently shackled to him, he demanded and he sent his Death Eaters to do his dirty work for him. Those who would not, died, usually after suffering unspeakable torture. Those who did were often quite insane, teetering on a miniscule precipice overlooking the Abyss. He turned loving sons into his soldiers. He turned innocents into murderers, and he sought to kill all those who refused to submit to him. And in the meantime, I went off to school and tried my best not to die."

"There were many times when it seemed I knew who was good and the bad, only to change my mind. Then, when I was sure it couldn't be any other way, I would have yet another reality check. There was a war looming and so many refused to see and admit that it was coming. Those who did often could not trust each other. We were led to believe the only one we could trust was one man and one man alone. Harry, most of all, and he was the beacon of light for all of us. He was the only one to survive the killing curse of the Dark Lord himself."

Hermione stared at Severus, studying his face carefully for signs of disbelief or denial.

"Some time before the end of the war, our most trusted guide on the path of light, or so we were told, donned a cursed ring in the hopes to use the stone's legendary power to bring back his dead kin in hopes of gaining their forgiveness. The curse threatened to kill him within a year, even with all the potions and spells on his side, but he came up with a plan, yet he told no one. None of us questioned. None of us knew… save one person, who had been bound by an unbreakable vow to obey him in all things in exchange for life— a life bartered when he defected from the Dark Lord's service. It was not his own life, but for that of Harry's parents."

Hermione sipped her tea again. "They died, despite it all, betrayed by one of their closest friends. But the vow remained. He was ordered to kill the Headmaster of Hogwarts. It would not be a faked death. He commanded him to murder him. It was supposedly to save the soul of one young boy who was sent to murder him. One soul's price for another— one sin compounded upon another."

Hermione closed her eyes. "So he did as he was told, because to not do so would mean his own death. The Headmaster died, falling from the Astronomy Tower, and all eyes instantly turned to Harry to save them all. So he did what any sixteen-year-old would do after having the burden of saving the world thrust upon him. Harry ran, but he did not run alone. Ronald and I ran with him, taking it upon ourselves to finish what the Headmaster had started: finding the soul-bound items of one Tom Riddle— his key to immortality and the endless cycle of his death and rebirth."

"We found and disposed of them all, and in the end it came down to Harry, laying down his life to save a world, and he did. Yet, because of the nature of the magic that had saved his life as a baby, he lived. He and Tom met in battle, and Harry was the victor. We buried our dead, and the Headmaster walked out of his grave alive and well, or perhaps alive but not truly well. Not at all."

Hermione sighed heavily. "The man who had been incarcerated for murdering the Headmaster was released. You can't exactly be guilty of murder when the victim walks up and says that everything went exactly to plan. No one had known it, yet it seemed everyone was okay with accepting the great boon that someone so important and beloved hadn't actually died at all."

"About year or two before I went on the run, my parents were murdered by Death Eaters who were looking for me. I was know to be a close friend of Harry's, and that made me just important enough to murder. I returned one summer to find no one waiting at the train station for me. I hailed a cab and walked the rest of the way home. Surely my parents wouldn't forget, no? I came home to a mass murder scene. The house was burnt to the ground along with twelve other houses on either side of mine. Charred bodies were still being found. My transfiguration professor, who had always been a stable and compassionate person to me, found me that night after hearing about the attack on the news. I didn't even have to say anything. She just scooped me up, took me into her arms, and told me that if I would allow it, she would make me her own daughter, true in all things. She would never try to replace what I had lost, but she would give me a home and be there for me through grief and joy, until her very last breath. She gave me her ancestral ring, whose magic allows the claiming of those they would call kin. I became Hermione McGonagall in all ways but one. No one but I and a handful of others could know, lest they or I would become targeted again. I kept my old name. I love my mam more than I ever thought possible. I gained her impossibly thick lilt, and I learned to curse in Gaelic."

Hermione laughed despite herself. "I can hex and cast spells in Gaelic too, and when I'm really emotional, I sound exactly like Minerva."

Severus chuckled, flushing slightly.

"After the war, we rebuilt. I apprenticed under the Potions Master of Hogwarts, and we forgave each other our differences, slowly but surely. We became close, but none so close as when my mam died performing an impossibly stupid, mundane task for the Headmaster. Death Eaters ambushed her, thinking her the Headmaster returning home, and she Portkeyed back just in time for all my spells to fail me. She died in my arms, and I cried in his arms for days."

"We became very close. We worked day in and day out together on potions, formulae, balances, theory, and what colour of curtains to replace the tattered horrible mess that hung in Spinner's End."

Severus' eyes widened.

Hermione closed her eyes, a single hot tear trailing down her face. "His vow to the Headmaster did not die with him, perhaps because he did not truly die in his escape from the curse of the ring. Something had happened to him in the bargain that allowed him to survive. The Horcrux brought forward in him all of the horrible traits that we can normally fight with reason, compassion, and social boundaries. He did _not_ like sharing his most important tool with anyone."

"While Severus, my Severus, continued to perform his duties, he came home to me, and that the Headmaster could not, would not, abide. He framed me for the coldblooded murder of an Auror, then, when all the world was on bended knee, begging him for help in apprehending the dangerous Dark Witch Hermione— he so smoothly assured everyone that it would be taken care of. And thus he sent his trusted vow-bound servant to do it."

Hermione flinched. "Once I knew Severus was the one he had sent after me, I went home one last time. He gave me his ring, and we said goodbye. He used a spell we had developed together to safely and painlessly euthanize dangerous magical animals that could not be treated. It stops time for a single moment and stops the heart. You sing the incantation, they feel nothing, for time has been suspended, and then their heart just— stops."

Hermione sniffed, wiping her eyes. "But like most spells that powerful, you have to truly _mean_ it for the spell to work as intended. He probably had no idea— he probably thought the worst: that he had _killed_ me."

"Then, I woke up here," Hermione concluded. "I woke to a world of could-bes— a world where my mam still breathes and I can tell her every day 'a love ye'. I do not know the true future. I only know the one I had and the past events that made it happen. I'm sorry if my presence makes you uncomfortable. If you are anything like the one who gave me this ring, it would be very difficult for you to accept that someone like me wore it. I being someone you don't know at all."

Severus stared into the fire. "I know what you are: a McGonagall. You are fair, even outside house affiliations. You've helped Regulus, a Slytherin, without any hesitation or regret. You are compassionate, but you understand what it is not to trust. You took doses of medicine meant for Regulus to assure him they were not poison. You did not attempt to reassure him with words, you did it with deed. You are strong for others, even when you are tired and weakened. You are fair and you encourage it in others, even in your punishments. You share knowledge, even when others would hold it close to them for power. You command respect in deed not in words or titles. You punish fairly, stating reasons above all else, not leaving anything to be speculated as to why one person gets more or less." Severus paused, moving his hair back from his face. "I may not know you, Hermione McGonagall, but I know your deeds in only the short time I have see you here. I would know you better before deciding whether you are a fitting person to be wearing such as mine, but if it is truly like mine, then I have what I already need to know."

Hermione gave him a tight smile.

Severus lifted his head, seemingly deciding something. "If you ever need someone to tell you which idiot is the dunderhead, you can always come to me."

Hermione smiled more broadly, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "Well, outside of the classroom, if you should ever want to advance your Transfiguration studies to help find your wings, for example, let me know."

Severus's expression became infinitely more curious as Hermione's whisky-brown eyes seemed to flicker with their own fire.

* * *

Albus came back to Hogwarts to a very large helping of frustration that made him want to head right back out the doors, and had it not been so enervating to be back under the vibration of the school's ley lines to boost his depleted reserves. While he hadn't used a great deal of magic during his extended search, finding someone who wanted to teach at Hogwarts who hadn't heard of the jinx on the position or was willing to accept the risks involved was proving to be _far_ more difficult. Even with the promise of a substantial hazard pay bonus, he could find no one who was willing to give it a go. It was all so terribly frustrating and exhausting.

Then, to add an additional aggravation on top of his teetering pile of frustrations, a hundred thousand things had gone wrong at Hogwarts during his prolonged absence and all of them had been taken care of without even a single Patronus being sent out to bemoan how everything was falling apart without him there to put everything to rights.

Oh, and his Deputy Headmistress not only held the school together admirably and had an official paper trail that went all the way back to the Auror's office and St Mungo's, but she had also adopted one of her distant great-aunt's daughter's orphaned relations and had taken the chit on as her apprentice. Oh, and not only that, but the girl was quite charming, patient, highly intelligent, compassionate, and had already bridged the chasm between Slytherin and Gryffindor in a little less than a month.

It shouldn't have surprised him that Minerva's kin would cause this kind of trouble. Minerva had always been a well-balanced rule follower. She wouldn't even favour her own house when it was expected for the head of a house to do so. The Slytherins even liked and respected her because she took points from her own house just as easily as she did from the others. Then, he would have to make something up to award some random Gryffindor for being extraordinarily wonderful in some way.

"You can't be serious," Albus said as he leaned in his chair to address the gathered professors. "Horace? Silvanus? Now? Why would you choose to do this now?"

"Retire, Albus?" Silvanus huffed. "Both Slughorn and I have been trying to retire for _years_ now. Our papers have already gone through. We both stayed for over five years out of courtesy. I need to retire while I still have seven remaining digits, Albus. Horace needs to get out of that dungeon before he comes down with Lung Rot. Ever since Frank Longbottom blew up that cauldron, he's been susceptible to every draft in combination with humidity."

"Which is everything in the dungeons, Albus," Horace said. "I can't take it anymore."

"Horace, we can move your office—" Albus countered.

" _No_ , Albus," Horace shook his head. "I've watched children being led off to be branded with Dark magic in front of my very nose, Albus. I've watched Regulus Black pissing himself in sheer terror after Mulciber and Avery dragged themselves off to 'party,' and I had Crabbe and Goyle branded as Death Eaters without even suspecting. I'm getting old, Albus. I don't question my students like I should anymore. I just don't have the stamina to keep on top of the kids like I used to. The position needs new blood— something a bit younger and more able to keep up."

"I've lost three fingers and one toe to this job, Albus," Kettleburn said. "I'm getting too slow to respond to when a hippogryph is being cranky and wants his ferret over easy. I've broken my ankle tripping over gnome holes chasing them out of my vegetable garden. I have four grandchildren I haven't seen since they were wearing diapers. It's _time_ , Albus. I'm sorry, but it's been five whole years since I put in for retirement, and I want to enjoy what time I have left without having to worry about whether I'm going to lose an eye or another finger today."

Albus wore an expression that seemed very much like a sullen pout. "I suppose I can get that half-giant Rubeus Hagrid to teach. He's shown enthusiasm about having a job—"

" _No_!" Silvanus shouted, slamming down the hand that only had four fingers down on the desk. "You do _not_ want that walking accident teaching children how to improperly take care of animals. He takes care of them in a way that practically screams liability. He walks behind a thestral while it's eating. Who does that, Albus? You never walk behind a thestral when it's eating. Always, always in front! _No_! I have a good friend who is interested in the Care position. She's taught both at Salem and Durmstrang and is tired of being frozen into a human icicle every winter. Shee says the winters here in Scotland are a like a fine summer day in comparison. I want _her_ to replace me."

Albus sighed. "Well, if you think it wise—"

"I know you have the final say, Albus, but you won't find a better Care of Magical Creatures instructor anywhere that isn't unwilling to leave the jobs they have now. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity." Silvanus stared at Albus meaningfully.

"Alright, alright, I will sign off on the recommendation," Albus agreed. "At least that will only leave DADA and Potions to fill. Who is the wizard?"

"Witch, Albus," Silvanus said. "Her name is Keme Mingan"

Albus stared at the signed and sealed paperwork requesting that a Canadian witch named Keme Mingan be considered for the Care of Magical Creatures position. She came with long list of credentials and accolades from her work in North America as an active shaman for a number of First Nations magical communities. She had awards from being notable in teaching at both Durmstrang and Salem schools. He really couldn't look a gift professor in the mouth with all the shuffling going on. "And what about your replacement, Horace?"

"Actually, Albus," Horace said waving his hand over his head as if to swat a pesky insect. "I've been talking to my old colleague who has been growing increasingly disenchanted with the Ministry. He's a brilliant Potions Master, and I am pretty sure I have him talked into replacing me. He was wasted over there at the Ministry as the Secretary to the Undersecretary nonsense."

Albus raised his bushy eyebrows, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Ah, well that is good news, Horace. Does he know it also comes with duties as Head of Slytherin?"

"You won't have to worry about that, Albus," Horace scoffed. "He's worked for the Ministry for the last thirty years."

Silvanus chuckled in agreement.

"Name?" Albus questioned.

"Elphinstone Urquart," Horace said. He gestured to the stack of already filled out paperwork. It had all the stamps of approval on it from the Board of Governors. All it needed was the Headmaster's final approval.

Dumbledore rubbed his temples. "Fine, thank you for your recommendations. I will take care of the rest. I trust you will bring them in and have them trained before they must replace you?"

Silvanus and Horace waved their hands dismissively. "Of course Albus," Silvanus said. "Neither of us want you having to call us back in because someone died."

Albus sighed and waved them off, reaching into the nearby bowl and taking a lemon drop. He chewed on it frustratedly rather than sucking on it as he stared at the very short list of candidates for the still-vacant DADA position for next term. He was going to have to see if Durmstrang could put out some feelers for him. Surely one of _them_ would come and scoff at the idea of a jinxed position.

Fawkes chirped hopefully from his perch, but Albus sighed deeply. "Sorry, Fawkes. I have many things to take care of. I'll have the house-elves bring you a plate of something."

Fawkes drooped dejectedly on his perch as Albus stamped the parchments on his desk and signed them. He opened his window and stood there waiting.

An eagle owl flew in a few minutes later, and Albus had it flying off to be delivered so the next term could start without a hitch. Then, he took a long swig, finishing off his cup of tea and left his office for his chambers. The only sounds heard after that were the faint sound of his snores, just a few minutes later.

Fawkes hopped off his perch and sat on the open windowsill. He looked one direction and the other, then back towards Dumbledore's private chambers. He gave a soft warble and jumped out the window, spreading his wings to be carried aloft by the thermals.

* * *

When Elphinstone Urquart walked into the store with Minerva McGonagall, Garrick Ollivander knew it was going to be an interesting day. It always was when Unspeakables came into the store.

Garrick was one of the few who knew the ins and outs of Unspeakable protocol, but it wasn't because he was one. He did, however, cater to a very specific crowd. If you wanted a wand, you went to Ollivander's, at least if you were in Britain. There were other places to go in other Countries, but sometimes he had business from places as far as the Americas. Why? Quality. Garrick knew his wands, and even more so, he knew the people that bought them— every single one.

"Elphinstone," Garrick greeted. "Good to see you. "Professor McGonagall, it has been some time."

Garrick's eyes went wide as they ushered in a younger witch that might have been eighteen or nineteen at the most.

"We need the special today, Garrick," Elph said with smile.

"Ahhh, of course," Garrick said waving his wand at the front door. The blinds closed on the window, the door locked, and the sign flipped from open to closed. "Do come in the back."

The trio followed Garrick into the back where he had many, many boxes stashed in odd places. He waved his wand and boxes slid out of the way, exposing a trapdoor down. He opened it with a grunt and waved them in. "Come, come," he tutted. "It's been awhile since you've added to your numbers, Elphinstone."

"Well, it's hard to find someone willing to swear themselves to the best job they can't tell anyone about," Elph chuckled.

"Hah, I'm sure," Garrick said, tapping his nose.

"Hermione, this is Garrick Ollivander," Elph introduced. "Garrick, this is our newest recruit, Hermione McGonagall. I'm sure you don't need us to tell you her story."

Garrick shook his head. "Nay, I'm sorry to hear about your parents, m'dear, but you won't find a better mother than Minerva to take care of you. I've known her since she picked out her first wand, oh so long ago, and her second one."

Hermione blinked. "Second?"

Elph chuckled. "You don't think we let our Unspeakables run around doing Unspeakable things without a wand to that effect, hrm? Something that can't just be spell traced and have so many interesting questions pop up?"

"Oh," the witch answered. "Logical."

Garrick smiled. "Alright, here we go. Standard is, you get two wands. One will serve as your normal one that everyone gets to see you using, and then you get the one no one will get to see you use after today."

Hermione's eyes widened as she looked around. There were wands everywhere, but there were no boxes. Instead they were sitting in upright stands next to each other.

"I fear we have to wait the obligatory twenty minutes for the awe to wear off, Elph," Garrick chuckled. "Every one of you boggle that I have this place as if you'd expect me to keep the extra-special wands just laying about upstairs for anyone to man-handle."

Hermione shook her head, snapping out of it abruptly. "I'm ready."

Elph arched a brow and smiled. "New record, Garrick."

Ollivander smiled. "So it would seem. Just stand in the center of the circle there, Hermione. Let the right wands come to you. Sometimes it takes a while, just clear your mind and think of whatever comes to you and let the wands choose the witch. They might even have a good fight over you. I haven't seen that since that wonderful young man you brought in for me a few years ago."

"Hastings?"

"Ah yes," Ollivander chuckled. "Dragonbone wand, twelve point three inches, unicorn hair. Unyielding and then the the Baltic birch wand, eleven and a half inches, dragon heartstring, flexible as willow in the wind. The boy had such balance in his life between what needed to be done and what he was capable of."

Hermione sat in the middle of the circle as a flare of warmth activated the circle. Her eyes widened as her hair began to stand on end.

"Oh, do hand me your old wand there, Hermione," Ollivander said. "We don't want a wand fight on our hands with and outsider."

Hermione boggled as she handed the borrowed wand she had gotten from Minerva to tide her over until she had her own. Ollivander passed it off to Minerva. "I remember this wand."

Minerva winked. "I'm sure you do, Garrick."

"Many generations of McGonagalls, my dear, and I remember a good many of them."

"Just _how_ old are you, Mr Ollivander?" Minerva scoffed, raising a curious brow.

Garrick smiled. "Old enough to speak tree."

Hermione closed her eyes and sat in the circle, fideting somewhat before calming. She heard them shuffle up the stairs to leave her to her meditation. How long it would take would depend on the wands themselves. She idly wondered if her wand was upstairs, sitting in a box, waiting for an 11-year-old Hermione Granger to make her arrival in the store.

As she closed her eyes, she heard a soft rustling on the boundaries of the circle. She opened her eyes when something whooshed by her head and crashed into a pile of other wands. The other wands rattled agitatedly.

Ollivander clearly wasn't kidding about wands fighting each other. Sheesh!

She was pretty sure if wands had done this to her at the age of 11, she would have been diving for cover and contemplating whether she _really_ wanted to be a witch. Now, at least, she had grown somewhat accustomed to the random acts of highly magical objects, but that didn't exactly prevent her from boggling wide-eyed at some of their antics.

She felt somewhat lonely. Despite getting to re-bond with Minerva, which she hardly complaining about, far from it, she still felt as though she needed some sort of anchor to this time: something or someone to truly feel _bonded_ to. The rings had both come to her in a time before this time, or perhaps a time yet to be. They were not invalid to her, but they weren't gifts of the here and now. She wasn't even sure if that made sense even to herself.

All she knew was that there was a strange, aching hunger in her, a need that desperately needed to be filled, and now that Elph and Minerva were upstairs, and Severus— her Severus— was in a time apart from her, she felt a sudden wave of deep depression. It was so hard to be strong all the time. It was hard to be considerate all the time. It was exhausting to be fair. It wasn't that she didn't believe in it, but a selfish part of her wanted someone to take her into their arms and hold her like a beloved child, telling her everything would be fine and that they would always be there for her. Then, she actually wanted to believe it.

Wands were zinging wildly through the air and Hermione eeped as one embedded into the wood of the chair she was sitting in, missing her by mere inches. It buzzed, frantically trying to free itself. She was afraid to assist it. She really didn't want to be chosen by such a crazy wand. She wriggled it free and it zoomed off to clash into another pile of wands and they tussled, sending more wands scurrying off into the darkness.

Wands really _were_ alive. She kind of wished Harry were there— well the Harry who had once been her best friend. How he would have loved to hear about sentient wands that fought each other in epic battles. Alas, she had lost Harry to Ministry regulations when she had been convicted of murder. And when Harry Potter had turned his back on her, even for the very valid reason of giving her time to run, so, too, did the rest of the Wizarding world.

Loneliness warred with despair, and Hermione tried to fight it.

_Thwack! Thwack!_

Two wands had embedded into the brick in the far wall.

Merlin, wands were _violent_ , even without handlers! Maybe people really shouldn't know about this. If people knew what wands were really capable of, people would be freaking out in the streets.

There was a horrible creaking sound, and about thirty some wands came crashing down from the topmost rungs. Hermione stifled a scream, hurriedly throwing up her hands to protect her face.

Suddenly there was warmth in her hand. An ivory wand that seemed to be carved out of both ivory and wood, seamlessly pieced together. It was glowing blue on the inside of the wand's carved core. The other wands that had been threatening to land on her, quietly floated away, seemingly deterred by the other wand's decision.

As she held the wand, she felt as though a giant cat was rubbing up against her, purring madly. _Merlin_ , what kind of ivory did this… oh. Giant cat, indeed. Close enough. She supposed there were probably smilodon tusks out there along with the mastadon ivory, buried somewhere deep under the permafrost of Siberia somewhere. Well, that answered _that_ question.

Bloody know-it-all.

"I miss you so, Severus," Hermione whispered, sniffing slightly as she wiped at her eyes. Ugh. Why was she such an emotional fountain? Surely after all she had seen, she could hold herself together somewhat better than this?

She missed the slight quirk of his lips when he approved of something, and the quiet throw of eye daggers when she caught him obsessing over some potion or ingredient. Even more strangely, she missed the way he made her eggs on Sunday mornings and the crispy way he made bacon. Even though it had only happened that once, she missed the feel of his body pressed to hers as the early morning sun warmed her as it came through the windows at Spinner's End, the warm press of his lips against her skin, and the deep rumble of his voice as he whispered her name.

The event that had driven Severus the Younger into saying the word that had driven him from his childhood friend had passed and gone. There was a good chance that it would not happen in the future, and Severus would be allowed to find peace in a life with Lily Evans in it. The tortured man that she had befriended and learned how to love would never come to pass. Perhaps, she could be friends with this younger Severus, but perhaps he would have no reason to truly get to know Hermione McGonagall.

Surely if he was truly happy with Lily in his life— something she had always boggled as to how one supposedly good friend could turn on him so permanently, at least until Ronald did exactly the same to her— it would be worth her own personal discomfort. Why did she feel so terribly adrift then?

Hermione tried to close her eyes again. Ollivander had said there would be two wands, right? Well, at least she had half of it down.

_Rustle, rustle. Flop._

Hermione opened her stared into the fireplace where two dark black eyes stared back at her. A dark red and orange feathered crest rose, scattering ashes in multiple directions.

"Fawkes?!"

The ash-covered phoenix hopped out of the still burning fire and warbled melodiously, shaking off his feathers from head to tail with a rapid fluttering of his impressive wings. He yawned beakily and chirped, fluttering up to land on her lap, warbling curiously. Hermione, startled, gently lay her hand on the bird's head. The phoenix chirped happily and bonked his head into her hand.

_How_ had he gotten here? _Why_?

Hermione felt a wave of deep loneliness coming from the beautiful magical bird. His black eyes shone with keen intelligence, but also a profound sadness. She knew, at that moment, that the bird would have gladly given himself over to her service if only she would— _oh_!

"You can't mean that," Hermione whispered, her eyes darting. Ollivander, Minerva, and Elph had already retreated upstairs to leave her to her meditation. "Surely you have a bond to the Headmaster after—"

Fawkes laid his head on her chest looking up at her, making a sad sound.

"But," Hermione protested. "I don't know anything about phoenixes except for books. How do you know I'll— I might muck things up! I might… disappoint you."

Fawkes pecked her on the chin sharply.

"Ow, ok, I—" Hermione stammered. "If you really think so."

Fawkes warbled and hocked up what looked like gooseberry in pristine condition. He beaked it, offering it to her.

Hermione tentatively picked it up, slightly confused and weirded out by the bird offering her food he had just hacked up from places unknown.

Fawkes cooed in encouragement.

Hermione slowly, awkwardly, took a bite and swallowed and offered the rest back to Fawkes, who eagerly gobbled it down. Hermione blinked, suddenly a bit whoozy. She felt something odd in her head, like cotton moving around. Her head was all fuzzy, and her mind was somehow both cracking and expanding outward, pieces of her mind seemingly reordering and making room for something else.

She staggered, falling from the chair she had been sitting on, twitching on the floor. Fawkes hopped under her arms and pressed against her, encouraging her to hold on to him, and she did, her arms wrapping around the bird as her body convulsed. He set himself on fire, but the fire was a strange golden colour that expanded into a cool blue and then radiant white, It expanded into her, and Hermione gave a silent scream, but not in pain.

Hermione's mind shattered into countless pieces, exploding outward in crystalline detail, and suddenly Fawkes was there with her, and his fire was binding the pieces back together, pulling them in again. Hermione cried out, and it was a strange almost warbling hoot. Her body switched between owl and woman as her mind flashed pieces of her life, what it could have been, what it was, and even what it should have been.

Fawkes warbled in soft encouragement as Hermione panted, teeth clacking in a shade of her owlish beak. Feathers sprouted down her arms and then retracted. Fire flowed down into her magical core, setting it on fire, filling her with a sense of peace, unconditional love, and the knowledge that she would never, ever be alone again. Owl wings flared out of her back, tearing out of her borrowed robes, and the barred feathers set themselves aflame. Hermione's eyes bled into pure obsidian black, reflecting the rainbow of colour created by the union of fire and light.

She stared out into the room and cried large tears as she saw sands moving around them in the air and around all things. Particles of pure light danced in front of her, but condensed down into the bird she was holding. The phoenix. No, _her_ phoenix. Fawkes. And she was _his_ , body and soul. Her mind was expanding, tearing itself apart and reassembling itself back together to process the vastness of the bond this one magical bird had to offer, if only she would trust him and allow herself to be remade.

_Hermione. Trust me?_

It wasn't a word as much as feeling. She _knew_.

"I trust you," she whispered, her eyes rolling back in her head.

_Let go. I will be there to catch you._

Hermione McGonagall closed her eyes and gave herself unto the Abyss of images and colour as her heartbeat synchronised with Fawkes' own and their individual minds became one.

In a blast of magical heat, she found unconditional faith and acceptance. It was the polar opposite of the foul magic that corrupted Tom Riddle's Death Eaters. It was pure. It was light. It was love, and it would never, ever, let her go.

Hermione screamed, the sound from her throat both the screech of the owl mixed with the cry of the phoenix. The power blasted out of the circle that Ollivander had made for the wands, blowing out the wards as the entire circle was consumed in bright fire.

* * *

Minerva, Ollivander, and Elph came tearing down the stairs like they were being pursued by a pack of baying hellhounds. " _ **Hermione?!**_ "

Hermione was curled up peacefully in the center of the circle. Fawkes warbled at them curiously, his head crest raising as he chirped seemingly nonchalantly.

"Fawkes?" Minerva questioned, confused and worried for her daughter.

The red and orange phoenix chirred warmly, laying his head against Hermione's neck.

Minerva came closer and checked Hermione's pulse and breathing, and sighed in relief as both were steady and strong.

"Well, my son," Ollivander said warmly, pulling a plum out from a pocket. He offered it to the bird, who tore into it with gusto. "It seems you've finally chosen to seal the deal. I was beginning to think you were going to fly solo forever."

Elph and Minerva exchanged very confused glances.

Garrick smiled at them warmly. "Perhaps, it is time I revealed some secrets of my own, my old friends. In celebration, for this most wondrous event."

"In answer to your question, Minerva," Garrick said with a serene smile. "I have always been Ollivander from the very beginning, long ago, when the skies were darker and the stars brighter. The air was thick, and magic was everywhere. I have been Ollivander since the first Ollivander."

Minerva stared. "But Garrick, Ollivanders has been in business since 382 B.C."

"Oh, was that the time," Garrick said with a curious tilt of his head. "Hrm. Seems like just yesterday I was making wands out of Kelpie mane and Veela hair. I've come a long way since then." He gave them a wink. "Years of practice, I suppose."

Elph gaped. " _Thousands_ of years!"

Garrick shrugged. "What's a little time between friends?"

"What is a _little_ time for you, Garrick?" Minerva asked.

Ollivander tilted his head. "Sometime between now and then, I suppose."

"Come, bring her upstairs. There is a more comfortable daybed for her to sleep on as her body assimilates everything my son is giving her," Garrick chuckled. "My daughter chose her bondmate, uh, two decades ago I think. Boy slept for a week. They moved to Tibet to study kirins together. Every so often he sends me a scale or tail hairs. Comes with having to have your mind rewritten to hear the song, see the sands, and understand us. Come, come. Upstairs. Tea. Fruit salad, perhaps. Yes, probably a lot of that for a few days at least. I will answer your questions, as I can trust you to know when such things are… unspeakable."

Elph and Minerva pinched the bridges of their noses together, but gathered Hermione up and carried her up the stairs as Fawkes flew point up the stairwell, and Ollivander brought up the rear.

"Good thing today isn't normally a busy day for me," Garrick whistled softly. "Would be a pity to be closed on the day all the children come to pick out their wands."

* * *

"You're a phoenix?" Minerva boggled.

"Always have been," Garrick chuckled, passing her a sandwich tray and another loaded with crackers, cheese and fruit. "People see what they expect to see: and old man with wizened creases and misbehaving hair. It is common knowledge that this is what I look like, and so, that is what people see. I prefer to help humans, work with them, guide them as I can. It requires a certain— well, it requires hands and a voice people can understand. A phoenix appears as what they see themselves. After a while, I began to see myself as the old man with the wands more than I saw myself the bird, and yet I am always the bird. It is confusing, I know. It is why my son over there has always appeared just so after fledging. He has never had a reason to be anything else. My daughter travels with her bondmate in Muggle areas as an exotic asian woman with finely teased eyebrows. I have a photo somewhere. Quite comical. My mate is off keeping an eye on my youngest son, who seems to think he is thunderbird on Tuesdays."

"And what exactly happened down there, Garrick?" Elph asked. "You could have warned us."

"I didn't know, not for sure, Elph," Ollivander chuckled. "It was between Fawkes and Hermione. The moment she crossed that circle, he probably felt the draw, the need— the hunger even. He's been tagging along with Albus Dumbledore for years now, hoping to find the right person coming along at the school. Dumbledore always thought it keen to have a phoenix for a pet, never realising what he really had right under his nose."

"And what is that?"

Garrick smiled. "Belonging."

Elph seemed to ponder something. "How is it that you aren't—?"

"Bonded? Traveling the world with someone?" Garrick chuckled. "There are two paths for a phoenix. There is the most basic of ways, which is to find a mate and have a pair bond that way, or there is the most complicated way that require a willing, trusting partner with another species. Needless to say the second way is harder. Fawkes and Rohina chose the more difficult path to life fulfillment. My youngest son, Wagner, took the more traditional route that involves a great many hungry beaks."

"So, uh," Elph sighed, frustrated with his lack of verbal repartee.

Ollivander chuckled. "You wonder what other tricks I have up my wings?"

"Well, yes, but—" Elph admitted, "but I am more concerned about Hermione. She has been through much to be here. I worry for her health after having such powerful magic influx into her so abruptly."

"I know this may come as something foreign to you, old friend," Garrick said, "but tears of a phoenix have been known for healing for a long time. Is it not so far a leap to guess what a bond with one would truly do when embraced willingly? Not that any of my kind would ever force such a thing. That would be impossible. One cannot force love or trust. One can deceive, of course, and foster false trust. One can even misguide love or rather some poor semblance of it. But, believe me, Elph. It is not just Hermione who needed this bond to heal. My son hungered— _has_ hungered— for it for a very long time. Waiting, hoping, needing just the right conditions to come into being. Of all the people in this world. Many powerful, powerful people— Fawkes was waiting for _her_. Her heart was waiting for _him_. They will never be alone again. They will hear the song together. More importantly, once they are whole, they can share the feeling with others. Bring light unto darkness."

Garrick touched Minerva's hand. "You needn't worry that when she wakes she will forget her mam. She will not live a life alone with only birds around her. She can find love, too, in other places. What we offer is hope. We fill the hearts with courage with our song. We inspire. We protect, but we are not crusaders. We do not force our hand like some benevolent god. We simply seek communion with our world and wish to see it thrive."

Minerva smiled, her heart lightened.

Ollivander smiled. Tonight, my friends, I think I will show you something… the likes of which you have probably never seen.

Both Unspeakables perked noticeably. Secrets were the very bread and butter of their profession.

Garrick stood and stretched, and his form shimmered oddly. Pure white wings unfolded from his body like the demon of Bald Mountain in the tales of old, unfurling like the fan of a great dragon's shadow. The room was filled with a light so brilliant, Minerva and Elph had to shield their eyes together. Garrick let out a song so beautiful that it filled their hearts with joy, bolstering their courage for the future and giving them faith in the seemingly impossible. He was in the air, his tail furling outward in a stream of twinkling stars.

And they beheld him— the ancient phoenix that had once chosen to help mankind by opening a small shop selling wands. Garrick warbled, singing a joyous song over Hermione as she slept, her arms tightly woven around Fawkes. Fawkes warbled with his father, but he snuggled close against Hermione, determined to keep in contact until their bond solidified completely.

Garrick swished his great tail, allowing Hermione's hand to alight upon it. He nudged her tenderly with his beak, crooning.

Hermione's hand clenched slightly, tightening around one feather in particular. Garrick chirped and preened the feather with his beak and swished his tail abruptly. One single, solitary feather drifted slowly from his tail to the floor. Suddenly, Garrick was standing again as a human, and he picked up the pure white feather reverently, a smile on his face.

"And now the fun begins," Ollivander said with a wide grin, beckoning the two to follow him.

Garrick stood in front of a large workbench, holding his hands out with his palms up. He hummed softly, and drawers rustled and bundles from the nearby shelves moved. He pulled out his wand, or perhaps it was just a wand, guiding it in complex movements across the table. Garrick's ability to use any wand regardless of affiliation was well known, but insight into his true nature seemed to point to the why things worked as they did for him.

Garrick moved his hands as though he was conducting an orchestra. Fiber, wood, crystal, and gems flew in a whirlwind around him. A branch glided down from a shelf, and Ollivander gestured at it. Gems moved around the shaft of the branch, whittling it down to just the size he wanted, ornately carving grooves and hollows into the wood, but leaving enough of the bark for its natural beauty to shine through. He blew on the base of the forming wand, and the end flared open like the unfurling of a flower, and he placed a crystal on the end. The base wrapped around it in a delicate pattern, entrapping the crystal within it.

He ran his finger down the length of the wood, and it seemed to move out of the way like sand. Taking the pristine white feather in his hands, he groomed it with his fingers until it began to shrink into a shaft of pure energy. That he guided into the grove he had made with his fingers, and ran his finger up the shaft of the wand, encasing the core within.

Finally, he lifted up his hands and sang, and the wand lifted in the air as the glow from within expanded to engulf the entire wand, shining brightly like a beacon. When the light died down, Garrick looked very happy indeed. His pale eyes glistened with pride. Rowan branch. Eleven and three-fourths inches long. Phoenix feather and unicorn hair woven together in perfect harmony. This wand would never fail her. It would never betray her. "Perfect," he said out loud.

He smiled at Minerva and Elph. "Feel like becoming wand-makers?"

Minerva and Elph shook their heads side to side in negative.

Garrick laughed. Your loss. It is a very rewarding sort of career."

Ollivander carried the wand with him back to where Hermione and Fawkes were snoozing together. Fawkes lifted his head as his father entered, warbling a greeting.

Ollivander knelt beside them. "There now, my son. One last thing to be done, and you may sleep the week away if you so choose."

Fawkes chirped and preens Hermione's hair, fussing with it. She woke sleepily.

"There now, child," Garrick greeted. "Time for me to place your want. Will you allow me?"

Hermione nodded sleepily. "I trust you."

"Such faith in one so scarred. I see why my son chose you," Garrick crooned. He extended her right arm "Is this your casting arm?"

Hermione nodded.

Garrick lay the length of the wand across her skin, parallel to her bones. Then, like he had with the wood of the want, ran his finger down the length, causing it to cave as though drawn in sand.

"Do you have the Portkey, Elph?"

"Of course," Elph said handing him the small gem. "It is already attuned to her."

Ollivander nodded and held it together with the wand.

Ollivander sang, and the wand and Portkey burst into white flames and sank into her forearm as though being pulled into the earth. It glowed brightly and faded as his song ended.

Hermione was already asleep, apparently so comforted by Fawkes' presence that she felt no need to watch. The red and orange phoenix chirred and preened her head, laying his head over her arms.

"Welcome to the Unspeakables, Hermione McGonagall" Ollivander said with a smile, "and welcome to my family."

Fawkes warbled in agreement and snuggled into his bondmate and closed his eyes.

As Garrick stood, he saw something glinting on one of the sofa cushions. He plucked it up, curiously.

One, pristine primary feather as if from a giant owl was pressed between the pads of his fingers. It looked so much like an owl's feather, but it was rimmed in fire— his son's fire.

"You can have it," Hermione murmured sleepily, snuggling her face into Fawkes' warm feathers.

Garrick turned to her, grateful and amazed.

He turned to this other two guests. "I presume I will have three houseguests for the next week while she sleeps off the bond?"

Minerva and Elph nodded. "We would appreciate it, old friend."

"It is not a problem," Garrick replied. "I've even figured out how to cook in my spare time. It might even be edible. Though, I will warn you, she will crave fruit like nobody's business for a good month or two until she learns to separate her needs from my son's."

Minerva chuckled. "Is it anything like craving fish?"

Garrick looked skyward innocently. "I would not know, but I know my mate has times when I have emptied the green grocers fruit stand down to the last kumquat to satisfy her cravings."

Minerva took a cloth out of her pocket and transfigured it into a quilt, laying it over her daughter and Fawkes.

"What an adventure you've had, _mo nighean_ ," she crooned. "Rest now, and let Fawkes take care of you."

Elph lay a gentle hand on Minerva's shoulder and she grasped it with tenderly, smiling.

"And let me take care of you both," Garrick said, ushering them deeper into his private residence attached to his shop. "Let trouble take care of itself for a time."

* * *

_**To:** Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster_

_**From:** Hogwarts Board of Governors_

_Dear Headmaster Dumbledore,_

_We have decided that the students listed in this letter must be thoroughly assessed by a licensed mind healer for signs of: influence tampering, nascent Dark Mark, and psychological instability. If any of these students are found to be compromised in such a way, they are to be excused from classes until if and when they are deemed to be no longer a risk to the staff and students of Hogwarts. However, if they are judged unable to take exams at this time, they will be held back for one year._

_There will be no charge for this evaluation._

_We will not require an additional year of tuition if this is the case, due to the filing of formal charges against student Peter Pettigrew, as well as his recent diagnosis of severe mental disease. Mr Pettigrew has subsequently been judged unfit to return to school and deemed a grave danger to the general public. Also, due to the finding of multiple students bearing the Dark Mark within the school, we wish to ascertain that Hogwarts is as safe as we can possibly make it. Each of the following students listed have been involved in altercations of an alarmingly violent nature, and we believe that safety is the main concern for the school, the students, the teachers, and the parents._

_We are also attaching a list of students who will not be returning to Hogwarts next term due to either behavioural issues that threaten the safety of the school._

_Students who will not be returning to Hogwarts_

_Brutus Goyle_

_Reynold Crabbe_

_Peter Pettigrew_

_Lawrence Avery_

_Silas Mulciber_

_Students to be sent to St Mungo's for evaluation:_

_Walden Macnair_

_Sirius Black_

_James Potter_

_Thaddeus Nott_

_Severus Snape_

_Remus Lupin_

_Lily Evans_

_Marlene McKinnon_

_Cyprian Parkinson_

_Brody Travers_

_Zacharias Yaxley_

_Christine Berrycloth_

_Hubert Bulstrode_

_Frasier Edgecombe_

_Cindy Gnarlfunkle_

_Simeon Paulson_

_Ambrose Prewett_

_Once the psychological evaluations of those named above have cleared and the appropriate paperwork has been received, those students will be approved to return to Hogwarts. If any student is identified as being a valid danger to others in any way, they will not be permitted to return until if and when they are determined as no longer being a risk to the safety of others._

_Parents may petition to have their child return to Hogwarts, provided they submit a clean bill of mental health for said child from a licensed mind healer._

_Said children may_ _**not** _ _be pardoned in order to spare them the evaluation and failure to do so will be grounds for immediate expulsion of the student and swift termination for_ _**any** _ _staff member who permits any of them to return without a clean mental evaluation. This document has been approved and ordered by the Ministry, and Hogwarts_ _**must** _ _be compliant._


	4. Burning Questions

**A/N:** Updates will be sporadic due to ALL THE THINGS/life/class/THINGS!

**Beta Love:** The Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl 01

* * *

**Time for a Change**

**Chapter 4**

**Burning Questions**

_The most powerful weapon on earth is the human soul on fire. - Ferdinand Foch_

* * *

 

Hermione opened her eyes blearily to see a familiar pair of black eyes watching her closely.

She shifted her body and realised she was covered in a warm quilt, had a phoenix ball curled up in her arms (which she had apparently been drooling on) and the gaping emotional void that had been lurking on the outskirts of her awareness since she had woken up in a different time no longer seemed to be such a bottomless chasm anymore.

"Hi," she greeted, feeling a bit lame for having nothing better to say.

"Hey," Severus replied, seemingly just as creative.

"Did I pass out again?" she asked

"If by passing out you mean gaining yourself a surgically-attached phoenix? Then, yes. Yes, you did."

Fawkes stirred and yawned beakily in her face.

"Oh," she murmured. "Hello."

_Hi_.

Hermione's eyes widened. "I thought I dreamed all of that."

_Dreamed of me? Or that I could speak to you?_

" _Yes,"_ Hermione answered to both questions.

Severus stared at her.

"I, uh—" Hermione boggled.

_You can tell him. I don't mind. He's special to you._

Hermione furrowed her brows. "Fawkes and I, erm," Hermione tried to wrap her mind around it. "He's chosen me as a familiar."

"Isn't that the other way around?" Severus raised a brow.

Hermione tilted her head. "No, no, I don't think so. I think he chose _me_ as a familiar."

Severus blinked. "Not to sound like a close-minded imbecile, but I didn't know that was possible."

Fawkes warbled and hopped into Severus' lap, staring up at him with a chirp. He sang a small song, filling the young man's heart with joy.

_Hi._

"Oh," Severus breathed. "What— wow."

"You can hear him?"

Severus frowned. "It's like hearing a foreign language and making a really good guess."

Fawkes chirped and hopped back over to Hermione, snuggling up to her. Hermione lay her hand on him with a gentle caress, peace filling her eyes.

"I was having a problem," Hermione confessed. "Feeling attached to this place, this time. It wasn't that I didn't love my mam. _A do_. It's just, I felt as though I was intruding on this time. Like I shouldn't be here— that all I felt was just a shade of a time and place that will never be again. I felt like an imposter. A shade."

Severus frowned. "I can't imagine what it is like for you, but, if he's willing to abduct me to fly me to you, I imagine he thinks very highly of your well-being. Even if it means— finding you someone to talk to?"

Hermione's eyes widened in shock. "You abducted a Hogwarts student?"

_He was a perfectly willing abductee. The boys who torment him were on the prowl, and he didn't want to take the chance he was going to get in another unwanted altercation. Also, he's been worried about you. We were asleep for days, after all._

Hermione realised she was still very tired. "Still tired," she admitted.

"Sleep then," Severus said, his dark eyes were not unkind. "We can talk later— if you wish to."

Hermione smiled sleepily at him. "I do. Won't you get bored?"

Severus pulled a book out from his robes. "It's nice here. Quiet. Perfect place to get homework done without having to," he began, "worry about being interrupted by dunderheads."

Hermione nodded in understanding as her eyes drifted closed again.

* * *

Severus looked up as Hermione kicked a pillow off the sofa she was sleeping on. Severus huffed, picking it up and tucking it back under her arm. Her head was still stuffed into Fawkes' body feathers, and the red and orange feather ball was happily snoozing away with her, oblivious to the world. A wave of peace seeme to surround them, and Severus found it wonderfully calming.

He gently tucked the pillow back under her arm and shook his head.

Hermione's arm moved around his, tugging him closer as she snuggled up to both his captured arm and Fawkes. The phoenix didn't seem to mind sharing the snuggle, and Severus froze in complete surprise. She was completely passed out, her breathing was soft, deep, and even, yet she held onto him as though it was the most natural thing in the world. It was so very innocent, yet Severus couldn't help but think that it was something quite profound.

People didn't just seek comfort from him, not physically at least. Even Lily was more apt to punch him on the shoulder than to hug him. He could count on one hand the number of times she had hugged him. He's lost count of how many times she'd slugged him. Funny, that.

* * *

_There was a flash of warmth, and Severus saw himself— the older, taller man with such a severe look on his face— leaning down over him. This new perspective was rather discombobulating. It was like watching himself in the mirror. Sort of._

_Hands reached up to touch his cheek. "You've overworked yourself again, love," Hermione's voice scolded him. You should sleep now. I'll take care of the rest. I promise."_

_His expression relaxed slightly, years seeming to drop off of him from that alone. "I do not deserve you," he heard himself say._

_He heard her laugh, a warm bell-like sound that filled the air with joy. "Perhaps I deserve everything you are, my Master, and you deserve every bit of peace I can give you. I wouldn't trade it for anything. Except, maybe, the day you insulted my teeth."_

_Severus saw his face twist with pain and shame._

" _Severus," she said, placing her hand to his cheek. "That time is long past. I bring it up not to torture you, but to remind you how far we've come. Look at all of the great things we've done. Together."_

" _I wish—" Severus heard himself say raggedly. "That you were pinned and official, your own master."_

" _Severus, we're both grown adults," Hermione said with a soft expression._

_He stared at her with a determined expression. "I will have no one question your legitimacy. There will no loose strings. No t's that are not crossed. No one will be able to question that you have earned every last iota of your mastery."_

_She looked up at him with a sad expression. "I suppose I've waited this long already. I can wait a little longer." With a tender kiss to his knuckles, she was gone, sweeping from the room much as he had done so many times before, down to the billow of her apprentice robes._

_The older Severus stared down at the ring pressed between his fingers, the white sapphires shining like stars._

" _Soon," he whispered._

Suddenly the scene changed.

_Albus Dumbledore stood, stroking his beard as he looked out the open window to his office._

" _I will have you remember your vow, Severus," he said coldly. "You will take care of Hermione Granger. "You will remove her from our current situation."_

" _No, please," Severus answered, his face twisted in agony. "She has done nothing."_

" _She killed an Auror, Severus," Albus said serenely. "They have judged her guilty."_

" _They are_ _ **wrong**_ _!"_

" _Remember your vow," Albus said, his face set like stone. "You_ _ **will**_ _do as I say."_

The scene changed again _._

" _I love you," Hermione whispered, placing his wand to her heart. "I forgive you."_

" _Hermione," he wept. "I love you, and I always will."_

* * *

Severus snapped back out of the vision, his mind whirling and his heart beating wildly. He pulled the ring out from around his neck and saw that it was shining. So, too, was the ring on Hermione's left ring finger.

He looked down at Hermione's face, so peaceful in sleep, even as he remembered her gentle touch on his face when she had, even if for a moment, believed him to be her Severus, alive and well. The sheer love he had seen in her eyes— the incredible warmth. If that future version of himself had truly loved her, could he also find it in his heart to give her a chance as well?

A little nagging part of him was pulling at him, telling him that _Lily_ was the one that had always been there for him ever since they were young children. It had always been Lily and no one else. Surely, the wise thing would be to focus on the one that had been there for years rather than the feverish pipedream that ring-fated love could bring him so much more than just some insubstantial hope that lightning could somehow strike twice.

Yet, despite what logic told him, this witch was touching him here and now, and even though she was dead asleep while doing so, he couldn't help but feel as though there _had_ to be something there. Just from the small bits he had gleaned about her personality in the short time he'd known her, she was nothing less than absolutely genuine in her compassion. She even offered help to Slytherin. She helped Regulus. Lucius believed in her. _Lucius!_

She was the daughter of Minerva McGonagall—a Gryffindor who had been nothing but fair to his House, even when the Headmaster was so notoriously not. Surely, that meant she wasn't some frivolous witch like so many others were?

Severus gently pulled his arm out from her embrace, wincing as her warmth left him. It would far easier to dismiss her warmth as a passing fancy if it didn't feel so real— even if she didn't realise she was doing it.

Severus put up his homework and shrunk down his book to stash it in his robes. It was such a relief to get all of his work done without being pestered.

Fawkes woke up with a beaky yawn and stared at him curiously.

Severus couldn't help but think he was being weighed somehow.

A pair of caramel-coloured eyes stared at him from under Fawkes' wing and wriggled free, feet first. A fluffy, downy, almost comically round chick rolled out from under Fawkes' wing and flopped on the wood floor with a thunk.

Severus hurriedly scooped up the little chick with a wide-eyed expression. "Are you okay?"

The chick was a deep chestnut colour with light grey under-down. He could see tiny chestnut pin feathers poking out from her downy fluff. She teetered somewhat dazedly, but when Severus ran his hand over her body, she focused on him with a soft warble. She peeped hungrily, radiating hunger. Empty, bottomless, abyss-deep hunger.

Severus looked around and saw a bowl of fruit nearby. He grabbed a berry from the bowl and held it out, and the chick gobbled it down hungrily and opened its beak again widely.

She peeped as a wave of gut-twisting hunger resonated in his gut.

_She?_

He held out a gooseberry, and it disappeared down the hatch. He continued to shovel food into the bottomless pit that had a beak for an entrance until the bowl was nearly empty.

"Where are you putting all that?" Severus boggled.

The chestnut chick peeped contentedly, seemingly very proud of herself.

"I'm almost certain you ate an entire tree's worth of fruit," Severus said, rubbing the chick under the chin.

The female chick chirped in seeming agreement. She looked Severus in the eyes adoringly.

"Oh," Severus said with wonder in his eyes. "I'm no one special."

The chick pegged him on the finger with her sharp beak.

"Ow, sorry," Severus muttered.

The chick stared at him, flapping her chestnut wings, exposing light amber primaries that were just starting to poke out.

"Hello to you too, Imogen," he replied, "Though I have no idea how it is that I know your name."

Imogen peeped at him, self-assured, her caramel eyes shining.

The fluffy chick made a strange sound and hacked up a gooseberry. She nosed it with her beak and rolled it to Severus on his lap.

Fawkes chirped from by Hermione quizzically, sounding as though he were having a discussion with the little chick.

Imogen fluffed herself up, staring at him, peeping decisively. She stared up at Severus, and resumed rolling the gooseberry over to him.

Severus looked at the the slightly juice-covered gooseberry with confusion.

"She wants to help you," Hermione said sleepily, her eyes looking at him blearily but not unkindly. "She's very young, and Fawkes thinks almost _too_ young to make such a big decision, but she's always been a stubborn and determined chick. She really, truly, wants to help you understand, and she's willing to be there for you like Fawkes is for me— well maybe a little at a time, since she's young. She's only been around for maybe a century or two as we see it. Sleeping mostly, as most chicks tend to do whenever they aren't eating."

Fawkes chirred softly in agreement.

"She's a chick of an old friend of Ollivander's," Hermione translated. "She was a bit picked on by her siblings, so Ollivander took her under wing, and Fawkes brooded her whenever he could. She's been refusing to fledge until she finds just the right person to grow up with."

Imogen peeped happily, nodding her head, her head crest fluffing.

Severus frowned. "If it took her centuries to get this far, I'll be long dead before she fledges."

Imogen peeped indignantly.

Hermione smiled drowsily. "Not as dead as you might think."

Severus lifted his head.

"Accepting a phoenix bond is a… lifetime commitment," Hermione explained as Fawkes warbled commentary. "She wants to be your partner, your friend for life, but she won't force you."

Imogen peeped.

Hermione flushed a little.

Severus looked at her. "What?"

"She say I trust you with my life, so she will with hers," Hermione translated.

Severus' face twisted in conflict. "Do you? Really?"

Hermione closed her eyes a few moments and then opened them, looking at him in the face. "I know what your past was like. I know what your future could be. I know what it made you. I know how it hurt you, twisted you, and tortured you, but those were only possibilities now, save the past you have already lived. I know you are capable of greatness. At the same time, you are capable of cruelty. We _all_ are, but what I think— what I really think— is that if given the right amount of trust, you, me— people— we have the potential to be much greater than we think we are. It is only the people who believe they cannot be improved upon that are truly scary."

Hermione extended her hand drowsily.

Tentatively, Severus scooched over and slowly put his hand in hers.

"I believe in you, Severus," she whispered. "You may not understand why right now, but I believe in what you could be and what you are now. And you may not be the Severus I knew, and maybe that is a good thing because it means you haven't had all the horrible things mine did have happen to him— happen, or maybe you did, but you see it differently. If you are happy, then I will be glad of it. I would be your friend in this life, whatever comes of it, if you would allow me to be. I would gladly stand by your side as you go through life. Perhaps, one day, you will find that perfect witch whom you cannot live without, and I would be there to nudge you forward before your nerve fails, and you will give her that ring and it will shine as bright as the sun as it proves your wait worth it— to see you happy. That is what I want for you. To be happy."

Imogen peeped, fluttering her wings. Hermione scooped her up with one hand and pressed her face into her soft down. Imogen peeped happily and preened Hermione's hair.

"And that is what Imogen wants for you too," Hermione said with a warm smile.

Severus twitched, his pale hand reaching out tentatively to touch Imogen's warm fluff. She peeped warmly and beaked his fingers, drawing his hand closer to herself. "I'm afraid," he whispered. He looked at Hermione with solemn, fearful eyes. "What if I'm not good enough? What if I muck it up? What if I hurt you? What if I've always been a horrible friend?"

Hermione's eyes glistened. "I wish you were my Severus. I would hug you so tight." She blinked away tears. "I don't know how to be comforting and not make you uncomfortable. I'm sorry. I know this must be terribly awkward, but Severus— a phoenix is a creature of light and love. Their tears heal. Their songs inspire. They _know_. They wait days, years, decades, or even centuries for just the right one, the right heart, and the right circumstance. One day, they find that one phoenix or person that fills their heart as their song fills ours. They hunger for that belonging with that someone who is special— that someone who can be their reason for being tied to this time, this place. While we are sitting here admiring the cover of the Book of Life, they are a thousand pages in, making notes in the margins for those that come after."

Hermione sniffled, blinking back tears, and Fawkes crooned, pressing his head comfortingly against her cheek. She smiled, gently pressing his head to hers with her hand. "Imogen believes in you as Fawkes believes in me. It will always be your choice if you close your eyes and leap or if you turn and walk away. You have the right to do either, and she will not hate you, no matter what choice you decide to make."

Imogen hopped down into his lap again and peered up at him; she made a soft, melodious singing note that seemed to both question and express total adoration at the same time.

Severus cupped the little bird in his hands, pressing his forehead to hers.

Imogen peeped and shook her head, shaking the droplets of tears off her downy head. She chirred, her head crest rising.

"I accept," Severus said somewhat shakily, his hands surrounding the warm chick's body. "I want to be person you think I am."

The chestnut chick warbled, making a percolating sound. She hacked up another gooseberry into his hand. Severus awkwardly picked it up, his face twisted in an effort not to look too disgusted.

Hermione chuckled. "It's the ultimate sign of love, when a phoenix chooses to share their fruit with you. Close your eyes and try to think of… England. You only need to eat half."

Severus grunted and tugged at his collar a bit nervously. He bit into the gooseberry with his eyes firmly closed, chewed hastily and swallowed, passing the other half to Imogen, who enthusiastically made it disappear. Severus made a face, clasping the bridge of his nose as his head started to swim.

Hermione was off the couch in a blink. She helped Severus to the other couch nearby and helped him lay down on it, grabbing a nearby pillow to cushion his head.

"My head feels like," Severus burbled. "Like it's trying to crack open like an egg."

"Uh, well, it will kind of do that for awhile, I hate to say," Hermione crooned softly. "Just relax and let it happen. Let Imogen fill in all the cracks you never knew you had. She'll catch you, I promise. We can have that talk when we both wake up again."

"Psh," Severus blurted, his eyes whirling dizzily. "So— Ah!"

Hermione pulled the blanket over him, tucking the chick against his head. "There you go," she said warmly. "I happen to know from personal experience, that I've never slept better in my life."

Severus' long, black eyelashes fluttered as he struggled to remain awake.

Hermione soothed his head. "It's okay. I'm here. I'll watch over you until you sleep."

Severus' hand shot out, clasping hers. "Promise?"

Hermione's expression softened. "I promise, Severus." She squeezed his hand with a warm expression.

The black-haired wizard's eyes drifted closed, and within seconds he was fast asleep, dragged under by the lull of the bond.

Hermione looked around. "I could eat an entire watermelon by myself."

Fawkes chirped hungrily.

"Food it is, then," Hermione said with a smile even as she was yawning. "Then back to sleep."

Fawkes warbled agreement.

Five peaches, two navel oranges, twelve kumquats, and a half cantaloupe each, Hermione and Fawkes were sound asleep on the couch again, joining Severus and Imogen as the connections between the two bonded pairs began to cement.

* * *

"Did you hear, Lily?" Marlene asked, nudging her friend in the side. "Your Slytherin friend is down and out with Wizard Sleeping Flu. They had to move him out of the infirmary so he wouldn't infect anyone else."

Lily shook her head. "At least we haven't had to do much since the term is almost over. The tests are already done, it's just the term projects we have to turn in. But Sev never gets sick! He must have the plague."

Marlene fidgeted uncomfortably. "Don't even joke about that. My uncle said they have vials of old diseases hoarded at the Ministry."

Lily frowned. "I doubt that."

Marlene shook her head adamantly. "Truth!"

Lily sighed. "I'm really looking forward to going home and seeing my parents this time."

"Oh?" Marlene leaned in close. "How so?"

"I was just starting to," Lily paused, "feel like I knew how things were, ya know? James was even being nice to me, and then. And then I find out he was torturing my friend behind my back. Not just teasing him or being jerks like they were in front of me. That— I just told Sev to ignore them. They were immature toe-rags. I had no idea, Marlene. None. I had no idea they were doing. I—" Lily flushed. "I even laughed at their stupid jokes sometimes. I thought they were funny."

Marlene patted her shoulder. "It couldn't be all that bad, Lily. I mean, Snape threw some horrible curses and hexes at them too."

Lily looked at Marlene with a somewhat haunted expression. "You didn't see what Peter did to him, Marlene. What James did to him. What Sirius did him." Lily looked up to see the Slytherin table taking turns patting Regulus on the back as Lucius escorted him back to their table. Regulus looked pale and withdrawn, but he was still much better than she'd seen him before. The boy didn't go anywhere without an escort anymore, and Lily really couldn't blame him for that. Everyone had heard what had happened to him on _that_ night.

Rumour had it that Apprentice McGonagall had healed him with song or had, at least, sung him to sleep. She wasn't sure how much faith she put in all of that, but the Slytherins seemed utterly convinced that Apprentice McGonagall was a fine tribute to her mum, and there had been a few people wondering what had become of her during the past week.

"I heard she's got the Sleeping Flu," someone down the table whispered. "She got it from someone in the infirmary. One of the Slytherin blokes got it too before they were isolated. I feel bad for them. Sleeping flu can last for a whole month if you aren't treated in time."

"At least I wouldn't have to take exams!" The other boy exclaimed, causing considerable laughter.

"We're gathering some coins to owl her some flowers," a first-year said. "She tutored us after hours and helped us deal with Madam Pince in the library. Did you know Pince will let you take out more than one book if you sit where she can see you without having to leave her desk? She showed us a quiet place to study too, out on the green."

"Flowers? I'm in!" Another student agreed. "You collecting knuts?"

"Knuts, sickles, whatever you want to donate," the other student said. "One of the seventh years is going to Hogsmeade this weekend to arrange it. Sent the flowers with our cards and maybe a care basket. Jeremy said since the Slytherin bloke is sick too, we can send him something in the basket too so he doesn't feel left out. Wizard sleeping flu… I know I'd sure want to know someone gave a damn about me."

"Sure, I'm in too," a little strawberry blonde witch named Delilah piped up from the Ravenclaw table. "We've gathered some money, collected the last of the assignments and copies of class notes for him too, thanks to Professor Flitwick. He helped us."

"That's great, Delilah!" The others nodded, smiling at her.

A Hufflepuff came over and plopped down a crate with various plants from the greenhouse. "Professor Sprout gave us permission to pick a few of the plants to help energize someone who has the wizard flu. She says it's a pretty horrible experience. You feel drained for weeks and all you want to do is sleep."

"Sounds kind of like mononucleosis," a Ravenclaw said, nodding.

"Mono— what?" A few said.

The Ravenclaw laughed. "It's a Muggle disease. If you get it, you're pretty much down and out for a few months."

The tables shuddered together.

Suddenly a shadow loomed over the first years, and they looked up with terror on their faces.

Lucius and Regulus looked down at them from their tall height. Regulus hoisted a small box down in front of them. "We hear you were collecting for a care package for Apprentice McGonagall and Severus," Regulus said, looking to Lucius for some sign.

Lucius nodded and waved his hand. "Food, money for the transport fees, and some activities we know Severus will like. We put in some things we think Apprentice McGonagall will like based on what her mum likes. They seem pretty close, so we made our best guess."

The Gryffindor first years looked really excited. They pulled their Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw co-conspirators over close to chatter about getting it all to the seventh year who had volunteered to make the run to Hogsmeade for them. Lucius jutted his chin at Regulus and the two Slytherins headed off back to the Slytherin tables.

One of the littlest Gryffindor first years bounced up off the bench and chased after them. She brazenly tugged on Lucius' robes, causing the blond-haired wizard to look down at her with a puzzled expression.

"Thank you!" she gushed, "for helping contribute!"

Just for a moment, Lucius' face softened and he nodded to the girl. They continued on their way and the brazen little Gryffindor bounced back to her table with a pleased grin on her face.

Lily looked up towards the High Table and saw the Headmaster with a distinct scowl plastered to his usually kind, grandfatherly face.

"What's his problem?" Lily asked Marlene, nodding towards their visibly disgruntled headmaster.

Marlene glanced up, blinking in confusion. "I don't know, Lily." As soon as the Headmaster noticed her looking at him, his face shifted into a warm smile and he twinkled down at her.

Marlene flushed and turned away.

Lily looked away for the moment, shielding her eyes with her hands.

Marlene nudged her with her elbow. "Hey, what's up with those two?"

Lily looked over to where James Potter and Sirius Black were looking very pale and far less lively than they usually did, pushing the food around on their plates rather listlessly and not seeming to eat much of anything at all. Lily frowned. Whatever was making those two that quiet and putting them off their food could not be anything good. Their typical boundless energy and enthusiasm for pranking seemed to have utterly vanished. Even stranger was how the Headmaster's gaze would fall on them occasionally, and his brow would furrow noticeably as if in some sort of deep, focused concentration. Lily didn't know what to think and didn't have a clue as to what was going on, but it was all making her very uneasy.

The two boys traded grim looks and were soon walking out of the Great Hall together, and for once, Lily wanted to know what was going on in their heads. She hadn't really, truly, talked to them since "the incident." Even Remus, who had once been right there for their every gathering, had started showing more interest in studying under the new Care of Magical Creatures professor who was getting to know the school and working on her lesson plans under Kettleburn's watchful eye.

Rumor had it that Remus had been showing himself to be quite the handler of both magical and non-magical creatures, but Lily hadn't really taken notice due to her intense focus on charms lately. Flitwick seemed quite interested in keeping her busy with extra-credit charms study, and Lily had to admit that charms was far and away her favorite subject.

Lily excused herself and followed the pair out, pondering the irony that for once, just when James Potter wasn't embarrassing the both of them trying to practically throw himself bodily at her, she was now the one watching him. She sighed gustily and trailed after them, being careful to meander a bit and keep a slight distance, hoping they wouldn't realize she was actually following them.

* * *

Healer Tucker Bradshaw arrived in the small orchard just outside of London to see that the handful of other healers he had invited had already shown up. He was happy that Master McGonagall's apprentice had been so generous and willing to share the spell-songs that had helped so much in the treatment of Regulus Black.

He noted that the witch seemed weary when she spoke with anyone, but she seemed determined enough to do her part to help. He could only admire her for that. She looked so terribly fatigued, and her familiar, a rather large and handsome eagle-owl, made it clear that he was going to stay with her the entire time.

"We can meet another time when you are not so obviously exhausted," he told her, his healer senses telling him that she was indeed quite drained.

"It's fine, Healer Bradshaw," she reassured him. "I assure you I have slept more than I have ever slept recently. A few hours out here will not kill me."

The healers all gathered together, and Hermione's master and mum watched from afar.

"The spell itself is an incantation in song," Hermione explained. "The first part of it is _Vulnera Sanentur_ , but that is only the first part. The incantation must be sung while you focus very hard on the stages of what you want and need done. The first stage is to slow the flow of blood if there is any. The second is to clean up the blood and heal the wounds, and the third is to draw the flesh together and knit it together. You sing three repetitions regardless of whether you see bleeding externally, for it will seek out any internal bleeding that you cannot see."

" _Cor Sanentur_ which is heart heal and _Cerebrum Sanentur_ which is mind heal are used to heal damage to the heart and the mind that have suffered physical damage," Hermione explained. "These are sung after _Vulnera Sanentur_ has stopping any bleeding and cleaning it up is crucial."

"After everything has been settled, that is when I make use of _Mollesco Animus_ which is for quieting the mind, soul, and heart and helping the person you are casting it on be a peace enough to rest after they have been treated," Hermione finished.

"Excuse me, Apprentice McGonagall," one of the healers had questioned. "Why does the incantation have to be sung? What if you are like me and cannot hold a tune?"

Chuckles spread around the garden park. Hermione smiled. "Unfortunately the reason why it works is the song, Healer Stonehew. You may hold horrible tone, but it must be sung. There is an inherent vibration in music, more so the one who sings over that of one who uses a physical instrument. The reason you cannot use an instrument is that it cannot sing words, and in case you were wondering if recordings done the Muggle way would work, I fear they do not. The singing is the spell, and it must be crafted by the will of the caster like any other spell, and it must tap into the inner magic of your core that all magic resonates. There is something in the music that makes it work, and all I can say is that I have customised the spell for today for lower registers for ease of learning. What range you are in does not matter. As with most magic it is all about intent, but you cannot cheat."

Hermione gave a soft sigh. "Think of it this way. If you could save a life that was bleeding out in front of you and the choice was to sing out of tune or let them die, would it be easier to put aside worrying about your being in tune?

"Where did you learn these spells, Apprentice McGonagall?" one of them asked. "How have we not heard of it before this?"

Hermione looked haggard. The eagle-owl on her shoulder hooted and snuggled up to her head. "When I was younger, a friend of my family taught me many spells. These were some of them. He insisted I learn them until they were second nature to me. He said that some days, we had to be our own healers. Some days, the minutes it took for healers to come was too long. He had learned them out of necessity, and he taught them to me in the hopes it would save my life or someone else's."

"Lot of good that did you parents, from what I hear."

Hermione flinched.

"Healer Marr, you are entirely out of line."

The redheaded healer snorted rudely. "We're just going to sit here and be told by someone who hasn't even gotten her full mastership in _anything_ how we have to sing our bloody incantations? You're all mad as a bag of ferrets, the lot of you!"

"Sedgewic, what the _hell_ is wrong with you, man?" Healer Randon Arnold stood up to confront Healer Mar. "Have you looked at this parchment describing what these spells will do? This isn't just an ordinary spell. Sit down, shut it, and let the witch teach us it so we can help people instead of sitting around watching people die due to a lack of counters!"

Healer Marr wasn't finished, however. He had a twisted expression on his face that seemed to suggest he was very happy with being disagreeable. "I say let them do horrible things to each other. It gives us more people to heal. Job security."

"Healer Marr!" Keisha Wallwork exclaimed. "I've never heard you talk like this before!

Healer Marr clutched his head. "Merlin," he groaned. "What is _wrong_ with me? I want— to do horrible things."

His eyes rolled back into his head as an expression of pure pleasure crossed his face, but then he dug his fingernails into his arm so forcefully that it started bleeding. "No! I am a healer! _**I am a HEALER**_!" he exclaimed. "I will _**not**_ do this!" He convulsed, tearing at his arm as all the healers worked together to subdue him.

They grabbed his arms and legs and pinned him down to keep him from flailing as they cast a few tranquilising spells to calm him.

Marr, however, was completely delirious, and he seemed to be fighting everyone off as being the reason for his condition.

Healer Bradshaw grunted out orders to the others as Birtel Shetley cried out in shock as Sedgewic's bleeding arm writhed horribly under her grasp. Dark, ink-like markings were swirling under his skin, forming a very distinctive and ornate skull and serpent. Yet, even as it was happening, the markings were fading again as they held him down, preventing him from doing violence to himself or others. Minerva had rushed over to help in any way she could.

Marr panted, moaning in agony. "Help me, please," he cried. "Get it out of me. _**Get it out!**_ "

Bradshaw cast the spells to start the eviction of the Dark magic from Healer Marr's arm.

Hermione rushed over, beginning to sing her spells, but even as she did so, she taught each incantation in song to those gathered there. Soon, all of them were singing the words.

" _Vulnera Sanentur—_ "

A black, vile, oozing tar-like substance slowly seeped out of Marr's left forearm as Bradshaw chanted his spell to draw out the taint.

The other healers sang as best they could, weaving all the different variants of the healing spells Hermione had taught them on the fly by example.

" _Cor Sanentur— "_

" _Vulnera Sanentur—"_

" _Mollesco Animus—"_

" _Cerebrum Sanentur—"_

As Hermione taught the song, Bradshaw taught his incantation, and each of them switched off from song to incantation, helping Healer Bradshaw draw out the taint without losing his own strength. Meanwhile, Sedgewic Marr convulsed, writhed, and moaned, foaming at the mouth as the pain was so great that even the calming spell was having a hard time reaching him.

Finally, as the last of the foul-smelling rot dissipated from Sedgewic's arm, All of them sang together.

" _Mollesco Animus," they sang,_ over and over until the pain and panic in Sedgewic's slowly faded, and his breaths elongated and became more even.

They stared at his arm as he relaxed at last.

It was pristine.

"How is this even _possible_? He hasn't left the hospital until today," Healer Shetley confided, utterly stunned. "He was sleeping on the cot all of this last month, thanks to working on Healer Barnes in intensive care! He's not the Death Eater type. He wouldn't even entertain one out of courtesy!"

Healer Bradshaw shook his head.

Healer Hoertwode Blackwood frowned, sitting back on his rump as his legs buckled under him. "Healer Barnes was attacked by Peter Pettigrew, the confirmed Death Eather, yes?"

Many nods spread around the gathered.

Healer Wallwork seemed to get what Blackwood was implying. "Merlin, Hoertwode. Are you suggesting that the Mark has somehow become _contagious?"_

"Barnaby was spewing all that hateful stuff in his sleep day after day. It was Healer Marr who had to hear it day in and day out for a month," Blackwood reasoned. "He had little sleep, his mind was tired and so very vulnerable— I'm not saying he subscribes to the mentality, Keisha. I'm saying his mind was primed for a very _specific_ infection."

"If what you say is true," Minerva interjected, "then anyone who harbors hateful thoughts could be infected by the Mark and not even realise it until it's already taken hold, and Merlin help them if they do something violent and get blood on it from another person!"

"We need to get back to Mungo's and check on Barnaby and get Sedgewic someplace safe to rest," Keisha piped up.

"We also need to check anyone and everyone who has been anywhere near either Peter Pettigrew or Barnaby Barnes," Healer Bradshaw pointed out rather grimly.

Hermione seemed to realise something. "Everyone, please, roll up your sleeves. We've all just had full contact with Healer Marr. We need to know if it is spread by physical contact or something else."

Everyone exposed their arms to the group and sighed with relief.

"Master McGonagall, Apprentice McGonagall," Tucker said after a moment. "Thank you for assisting us in learning these spells. It seems we will be using them sooner rather than later. Once we find out how this is being transmitted, I will send you a Patronus as soon as I am able."

"Thank you, Healer Bradshaw," Minerva said.

The gathered Healers gathered up Healer Marr and disappeared with a crack.

Fawkes chirped worriedly.

Minerva held out her hand for Hermione to wrap her arm around it.

_**Crack.** _

They were gone.

* * *

" _Damn_ McGonagall anyway," Sirius growled. "Who is going to watch over Remus without us?"

James waved his hand in a casual manner reminiscent of Lucius Malfoy, which immediately set Sirius off.

"What is your problem?" Sirius groused. "Waving your hand all dismissively like some bloody Malfoy? We need to figure out a way to shake these damned ankle monitor bracelets, mate!"

James flipped the heavy metal bracelet idly with his wand. "It was all our own damn fault and you know it."

"Wha—" Sirius stared at him uncomprehendingly.

James blew his unruly hair out of his face. "Ever since the night your ill-advised full moon "prank" got entirely out of hand, I've had this nagging feeling that we've been taking things way too far." He scratched an itchy spot on his arm and sighed. "We've been so focused on retribution over some random comment someone made on a train to Hogwarts for the last five years. You know, next year, we're going to be seventeen, Sirius. The age of majority— and what are people going to say James Potter and Sirius Black are worth? What we're about?"

"I'm _already_ seventeen," Sirius scoffed. "It's nothing special."

"And what do we have to show for it, eh?" James pointed out, raising a brow in question.

"We've been Animagi before all of these people dreamed of what it could be like!" Sirius said. "We made this!" He pulled out the map from his breast pocket. "Something even McGonagall couldn't figure out what it was so she gave it back!"

"Well, becoming Animagi did us a fat lot of good since we didn't register!" James said, pointing at his ankle bracelet. "Now we are like parolees and have to check in with a bloody Auror every week to prove we aren't criminals!"

"We'll get Severus back for it, you know we will," Sirius growled, kicking a stone. "We'll figure out how to get these stupid bracelets off and take care of it."

James grabbed Sirius by the shoulder and stared his best mate in the eyes. "Do you even _hear_ yourself? That's exactly the kind of stuff that got us in trouble to begin with! And we're just like Peter!"

"Peter had the right way of it with Snivellus!"

"Peter is a bloody _**DEATH EATER!**_ Is _that_ what you want to be known as?!" James raged.

Sirius paled. "No, of course not! Snivellus is a stinking Slytherin git! Just like my entire bloody Pureblood family. He deserves _everything_ he gets!"

"Like your brother, Regulus?" James pressed. "They Mark-raped him, mate! If Healer Bradshaw hadn't been there to draw the Dark magic out, he could have been blooded— turned into a Death Eater against his will! Listen, I heard the Slytherins talking. Regulus was dragged off to be Marked because he stood up for _you_ , mate. He figured he'd just do whatever initiation thing and keep your mother off your back for you, and then they dragged him off and arm-raped him with Dark magic."

Sirius shook his head. "No! My brother is a Pureblood perfect Slytherin brat!" Sirius stood up, pacing, itching at his arm. "He's _always_ been the perfect child, kowtowing to my mother's bigoted needs and desires as she rains her unreasoning hate over my father. My father just plays the part because he's married to her and it's the only choice he has in a fucking Pureblood marriage. None of the care about anyone but themselves. They don't give a bloody shit about m— _anyone_ else!"

Sirius' eyes closed as a pleasureable expression crossed his face. "We'll show Snivellus what it means to cross us, mate. He won't even—"

James shook him. "Sirius!"

_**Slap!** _

Sirius blinked, gaping at James. "What's _wrong_ with you, mate?"

"Pull up your sleeve!"

"What?"

" _ **Pull up your fucking sleeve!**_ " James yelled.

Sirius looked down to where he had been unknowingly digging his nails into his skin. He pulled up his sleeve. And stared down at the horror before his disbelieving eyes.

The skull and serpent was writhing blackly under his skin, the dark ink starting to fade again as his thoughts shifted from vengeance and pleasure into terror.

"No! Nononono! I didn't— _**No!**_ "

"It's the thoughts, mate!" James cried. He pulled up his sleeve to see a rudimentary version of the skull and serpent sitting quiescently on his own arm, dark welts where he had been scratching at it making the grey scar-like tissue stand out across his arm. "It's the _thoughts_ that make a Death Eater!"

"P—Peter infected us!" Sirius cried out in horror. " _ **No!**_ _**No!**_ We're _**not**_ Death Eaters! We're _**not**_! How is this even _**possible!?**_ "

A gasp broke the tension and both boys turned to see Lily staring at them both, her eyes wide with comprehension as she saw their arms.

James paled. "Lily— it's not what you think."

Lily began to flee up the path, so terrified that she dropped her books in the mud and just ran for it.

" _ **Lily! No!"**_ James started after her.

Sirius let out a low, disturbing growl despite his human form. The bracelet on his ankle began to glow brightly as it suppressed his Animagus transformation. He was practically drooling, his eyes wild with fury as he stared after Lily. "Dirty little _Mudblood_! She protected _Snivellus_!"

James flung himself bodily at Sirius as the black-haired wizard began to start up the path, tackling this mate to the ground. " _ **Sirius, no!**_ "

Sirius' face was twisted into a perversely happy expressioin. His eyes were half-rolled back in something that looked far too close to bliss. "Fucking little Mudblood cunt," Sirius spat, foaming at the mouth as he struggled against James. "I'll show her— I'll—"

James punched him solidly in the face.

Suddenly, James gasped as the violent act caused a shiver of pure ecstasy to crawl up his spine and spread through his body.

"Fu—" James moaned. He saw Lily pausing after hearing him cry out. She looked back towards them.

"Run!" James screamed, using the last of his will to keep Sirius pinned down. His arm was convulsing as dark rivulets of black crawled under his skin, solidifying into the skull and serpent brand.

Sirius was getting stronger. His desire to hurt anyone who go in way was cancelling out any and all desire not to hurt James. He snarled, biting into James' arm with a vicious snarl.

James spasmed, the loop of pain seemed to feel good, and that sent his mind into an even greater panic. His wand? Where was his wand? Fuck! He couldn't let go of Sirius to even search for his wand! Meanwhile, inflicting pain on Sirius made him even happier. James' blood was dripping down his arm.

_Blood?_

_**FUCK!** _

James _had_ to let Sirius go. If his blood got on Sirius' newborn Mark, it would be done. Sirius would be a Death Eater— a full convert into to the Dark Lord's sadistic little cult.

Sirius snarled in twisted pleasure and tore up the hill after Lily.

James fumbled desperately, trying to somehow wrap his arm, find his wand, and stumble after Sirius at the same time.

"Sirius!" James cried.

But Sirius had already disappeared through the front doors of the school.

* * *

Lily was so panicked as she tore back towards Hogwarts that she didn't even realise where she was going or who she was near. She ran blindly, single-mindedly trying to get to someone— McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, _anyone_ who was a professor.

She slammed right into the tall frame of Lucius Malfoy, her eyes wide with panic, her mouth working near-soundlessly like the jaws of a fish.

_Glub. Glub. Glub._

"Miss Evans?" Lucius questioned, concern in his pale grey eyes.

"D— d— h— help!" Lily managed to get out.

Lucius' demeanour changed instantly. He quickly hustled the first years he was escorting down the hall, telling them to hurry to Slughorn's office and not leave it until he told them it was clear. They hurried off, chattering amongst each other in rising curiosity and panic.

Regulus stood taller, his face twisted into a much colder, stoic expression. He pulled Lily behind him as Regulus and Lucius stood together, wands out. Regulus whispered something to the owl perched on his shoulder and sent it flying, the bird immediately soared down the hallway and disappeared.

Sirius tore down the hallway, his eyes glazed with seeming oblivious madness. He saw nothing but Lily, and it was obvious that Lily was the only thing on his mind.

"I don't know what you want, brother, but you cannot have it," Regulus said, leveling his wand at him.

"Since when can you stop me, you little sycophant? Mum's favourite child," Sirius spat. "Daddy's little boy. You always roll over and bow to their whims like the good little child. Never having any will of your own."

Regulus glared at his brother, but said nothing.

"Nothing to say?" Sirius scoffed.

People were gathering around them, and Lucius seemed to be evaluating something. He nudged Regulus silently, and the pair began to move backwards into the green, out of the hallways, herding Lily in back of them to keep her away from Sirius.

"Protecting the dirty little Mudblood now?" Sirius said with a grin, his voice going sing-song in a way that was terribly familiar. Terribly—

_Bellatrix_.

Regulus saw his brother's arm and signalled to Lucius. Lucius' eyes narrowed, and he seemed to get the coded message.

"Sirius, _**no**_!" James was running towards them, his wand out, his arm bound, and a fearful look in his eyes.

That was all Regulus and Lucius needed.

" _Stupefy!_ " Lucius cast.

" _Familia Inhabilitare!_ " Regulus yelled.

Sirius Black abruptly fell face first to the stone floor of Hogwarts.

James sank to the floor, panting heavily. "Please," he groaned. "Help us. Before it gets me too." He clutched his arm, both pain and pleasure swimming in his eyes.

Professor Slughorn and Professor Flitwick were running up to assist as Regulus' owl clung to Flitwick's shoulder, hooting in clear distress.

James's face looked to them with relief and pleading.

" _Please_ ," he moaned. "Help us."

Slughorn saw the Mark on Sirius' exposed arm and the bandage on James. He tore fabric off his brown teaching robes and enchanted it, wrapping Sirius' arm with it to create a magical dampening barrier. He did the same to James', and the boy's eyes grew less panicked. The perverse pleasure left his face.

"Thank you," James whispered. "I can't hear it anymore."

Flitwick charmed Sirius' body to float as he guided it to the Infirmary without touching him, warning the other students to not get close.

James wept bitter tears as Slughorn helped him up.

"Come with me, my boy," he said. "Let's get you fixed up. Lucius? Regulus? Can you follow me and fill me in on exactly what happened here?"

"Of course, Professor," Lucius and Regulus said, tucking their wands away.

Regulus turned to Lily before they followed them to the Infirmary. "Are you uninjured?"

Lily nodded silently.

"You could come with us and tell Slughorn what happened before you got to us."

She nodded again, still processing.

They all headed towards the Infirmary together as the gathering crowd of students whispered amongst themselves.

* * *

Hermione woke in a comfortable cocoon of absolute contentment, her eyes fluttering, and her stomach growling hungrily for something. Fruit popped into mind. Glorious, juicy, wonderful, fruit.

Hermione blinked. She realised she had been moved to a circular, almost nest-like, bowl in the middle of the floor. An arm was wrapped around her waist as a face pressed into her hair as someone breathed easily against her. She, on the other hand, had her arms wrapped around Fawkes, who in turn had Imogen sleeping tucked under his wing. All of them were quite happily curled up together.

Warm fur rubbed up against her face, and Hermione yawned sleepily as Minerva went by, whapping her tail gently against her face. Hermione spluttered and stretched lazily, feeling far too content to be upset about anything. The phoenix magic-laden fruit had finally finished the majority of the extensive changes within her mind and body, and she finally felt as though she could see clearly without seeing double, triple, or whatever else she was seeing while the transformation had still been taking its course.

What the full extent of the transformation was, she had no idea, but Fawkes was content, so she, too, was content. She stretched and yawned, staring at the skin between her fingers. Tiny, almost pearlescent scales shimmered between her digits— just a hint of a bird's talons. It wasn't anything particularly alarming. Her skin was still very smooth to the touch, but to her eyes, at least, she saw where the phoenix's magic had fused to her completely. It felt pleasant and natural, and she did not fight the ebb and flow of it as it trickled into her from Fawkes and the very place she was in at that moment: the heart of an ancient phoenix's nest.

It just happened to be a phoenix's nest that strangely looked like the most comfortable library in the history of… ever.

Minerva hopped into Elph's lap as the older wizard was reading some sort of official record. Hermione recognised it by the string of long numbers on the spine. He was dutifully writing with what looked suspiciously like a phoenix feather quill. Well, at least the Ollivander family never had to worry about quill feathers for pens?

Fawkes was chuckling in her mind.

_Father loves your feather. He's keeping it secreted away somewhere and won't tell me where. He says it's the first time one of his children's chosen has been a proper bird before the change bond. It's special._

Hermione shook her head. She closed her eyes and concentrated.

_You don't have to close your eyes. Just think what you want to say to me. I'll pick it up._

Hermione opened her eyes, flustered. _I'm glad he liked it._

Fawkes gave her a mental smile, sender her his approval and unashamed love.

"I've got it!" Elph said excitedly, hugging Minerva so tightly she meowed in protest. He kissed her swiftly on the nose and set her back down. Minerva sat on her tail and looked quite baffled.

"The Mark is originally from an artifact known as the Oculus Tenebris, or the Eye of Darkness. Rumour had that it that it was destroyed, but a bigger rumour had it that Salazar Slytherin hid it deep within the bowels of Hogwarts guarded by a great beast to keep it hidden from all who would attempt to find it."

Elph scratched his head. "Back in the day, it caused a contagion so horrible that wizards and Muggles alike were dying in droves. Officially, Muggles called it the Black Death, and it was death many, many times over."

Hermione nudged Severus awake, and he groggily did so, his eyes growing wide as he realised his arms were wrapped around Hermione like she was his favourite pillow.

"Forgive me," Severus said, flushing deeply.

Hermione shook her head. "It's fine, how are you feeling?"

"Ravenous," Severus admitted.

Imogen peeped hungrily in agreement.

Hermione jutted her chin, letting him know that Elph was having a moment, and it would behoove them both to listen.

Severus, ever the Slytherin, didn't take much convincing.

Hermione grabbed the nearby bowl of fresh fruit and shared it with Severus, and they both shared it with Fawkes and Imogen as they listened carefully.

"This 'plague' was so virulent and deadly that it was said that one could eat lunch with their friends and dinner with their ancestors in paradise. It was unlike anything anyone had ever seen, and for a while, no one had an idea what caused it. Muggles, magicals— no one was safe. No one was spared."

Elph tapped the book in front of him. "Alchemists of the time worked with Wizarding potion masters, and they worked with curse-breakers, or rather what would have become curse-breakers much later. They tracked the plague down to a Dark wizard named Thanatos Apollyon. Now, the rest I cannot say until Severus here expresses an interest in becoming my apprentice." Elph turned to stare at Severus, who almost made an audible meep sound.

Imogen peeped hungrily, no longer hiding her woeful state of near-starvation. Starvation was relative, but as far as she was concerned, it was all that mattered.

Severus, Hermione, and Fawkes all stuffed a gooseberry into her open beak at the same time, and the little chick seemed very happy with that result.

Elph leaned back in his seat. "Come, Mr Snape. It is time we discussed the future. Yours for a start, and ours together."

Severus wore a slightly panicked look but Hermione smiled reassuringly at him. "You'll be fine, Severus, I promise."

His expression seemed somewhat dubious.

Severus came up to sit at the table with Elph.

"My name is Elphinstone Urquhart," Elph said with a warm smile. "My friend Horace tells me that you are one of the brightest young potioneers he has had in quite a long time. It just so happens that I am looking for an apprentice. I happen to be a Potion Master, but that is not all that I am. If you are interested, I would tell you more, and you can decide if this is what you want for your life. If not, no harm done. You can return to Hogwarts with my blessing, enriched by your fluffy little friend there. However, if you choose this path of potions and mystery, you may find yourself exposed to things that give you even more questions in a life where questions only lead to more questions. Not all are cut out for such things."

Severus looked as though he was being offered the golden ticket to a lifetime pass to an unlimited potion ingredients, a library of reference manuals, and the ability to ask any and all questions from the guru on top of the mountain. "You realise I'm Slytherin, right?" He whispered.

"Hrm?"Elph asked.

"You had me at apprentice, and you nailed me down with unending mysteries," Severus said. "I don't even need to know anything else." Severus flushed, staring at the table and the bowl of tempting fresh fruit upon it. Finally, he snatched one ravenously and devoured the plum in a few hungry bites.

"Well, there are a few downsides," Elph said. "Secrets having to be kept from those you don't always want to keep them from. Doing things to save the world while everyone thinks you are just the secretary to the undersecretary's secretary, and always having to come up with ever more varied ways to say absolutely nothing in particular. There are others of course, as no job is perfect, but I think, young Severus, you will be perfectly matched for what I am offering."

Severus fidgeted and bit his lip slightly, but then he squared his chin. "Tell me what you need of me."

Elph's smile was all smug satisfaction. "And so it begins."

* * *

Severus rubbed his arm where the new wand had been embedded between the bones of his forearm. A part of his mind was reeling with his change in luck from victim to Apprentice Unspeakable. To top it off, he was now of status equal with Hermione, so there was no longer the strangely awkward gap between them. While there would be an image to keep between them, they would know the truth, and that gave his heart no small amount of relief. They would be able to socialise off hours, practice together, and work on projects together. It was something so different from what he had come to expect: abuse, ridicule, being underestimated and distrusted.

Now, when Hermione wished to gain his attention, she gently placed a hand on his and flicked her eyes in another direction. Or she—

_Severus. You're staring at me again._

_Sorry._

_Don't be sorry, I'm just saying, Mam will notice, and she will tease me no end._

_Sorry._

Hermione laughed. _Don't be sorry, Severus. If you truly regret something, then it's okay to be sorry, and be sure to tell me if you are, so I can get on with the business of forgiving you._

Severus blinked. Would it really be that easy?

Hermione looked at him with amusement. Fawkes warbled, begging for a strawberry, and Hermione scoffed at him, telling him he had been feeding himself just fine the last few hundred years without her help.

Fawkes gave her such a woebegone and dejected look that she instantly wrapped her arms around the phoenix and buried her face into his warm feathers.

Fawkes looked utterly pleased with that reaction.

He got his strawberry and a hug. _Bliss_.

Elph pulled up a piece of parchment and unrolled it. "Okay, where was I before I shamelessly pounced on my next apprentice and we had to do that insufferable double wand shock and awe trick?"

Severus rubbed his arm and flushed. Imogen warbled cheerfully.

"Okay," Elph chuckled. "Salazar Slytherin was one of the first Unspeakables. He created the Unspeakables to protect secrets from secrets, and the first thing he did when he created the organisation was to train his first elite group and then fake his death in order to free himself from the obligations of being a Founder of Hogwarts."

Severus' eyes widened.

Elph grinned. "Yeah, I had that same exact expression on my face when I found out, Severus. Make no mistake about that."

Severus nodded dumbly, feeling like a bit of an idiot.

"Anyway, Salazar lived a very long time, even as wizards go, and during that very long life, he created the rules we still go by in order to protect our people. Our identification, our secondary wands, who we talk to, who we can't… all of this is due to _his_ work. Just before he left Hogwarts behind, he created a scandal, sullied his own name and reputation, and then made sure no one would ever think him anything remotely like a team player again. It was absolutely essential that no one ever realised just how important he was outside of our organisation. The only ones who know about us are those in the highest echelons of the Ministry. Even the most senior of hit wizards aren't cleared to know everything about us. We have our own infirmary at the DoM with our own healers and our own potions people. We have to because what we see every day is just that sensitive."

"Now, this doesn't mean we do not have allies and those we trust. We do. Ollivander is one of those trusted allies, now more so than ever," Elph said. "We protect his secrets too, and we do this gladly."

Severus and Hermione nodded in agreement.

"Now, this phoenix discovery is very recent, but it is also life for us. This is the very bread and butter of the Unspeakables. We deal in secrets. We are the ultimate secret keepers, but we do not deal in just _one_ secret. We deal in thousands upon thousands," Elph explained. He tapped his fingers along the parchment. "Salazar created an ingenious magical device to deliver a very potent cure for the plague. It would seek out the disease, pain, and woe, and then efficiently distribute the cure to all who required it. The Muggles believed that rats carried the plague to people, but the truth was it was a combination of magic and disease. The Muggle medications worked because the magic had been dealt with. It was one of the first true cooperations between Muggle and magical, and it was one of the last before Statute of Secrecy went into play. Or rather, that was official word."

Severus and Hermione were spellbound, captivated as Elph wove his tale.

Elph smiled. "Our department works with the Muggle organisations much like ours in their society. We share secrets because we know of each other even when no others do. The names have changed throughout the years, and we have worked with everything from MI:5 to the CIA, but much like the Ministry and the few that know us, not that the whole of either know of us, just those who really _need_ to know. There will always be some Muggles who are aware of us, just as there will always be Muggle parents who have magical children. Our role is to keep secrets, and sometimes managing them bleeds over into the Muggle world. Our main contact in the Muggle world is the Brotherhood of the Silver Dagger, which has members across the world, but I digress."

"Now, back to the matter at hand," Elph continued. "When Salazar Slytherin created his device to cure the plague, it succeeded. Then, it was housed at St. Mungo's for the purpose of using it to contain and cure patients with specific disorders that were highly virulent. Then, one day, it disappeared."

"Thanatos Apollyon stole the device and corrupted it with the Darkest of magic," Elph clarified. "When Salazar's device healed someone, it left a white mark on the skin— the serpent around the healing staff, the caduceus. It was a mark of healing to let the healers know that the plague had been quelled, or the disease, as the case may be. Thanatos, however, twisted it into what became known as the Eye of Darkness or the Oculus Tenebris. It created a mark on those he used it on."

"The Dark Mark," Hermione whispered.

Elph nodded. "It's changed though," he said, pointing to the record of the mark. It has always had the serpent, but the staff has been replaced by the skull. I'm _positive_ it is the same artifact. There can be no other."

Hermione tapped the parchment. "But, something is strange about this particular mark. Healer Marrs was somehow infected. The one thing I remember about the Mark was that Tom Riddle had to personally mark his chosen with it."

"Something has changed," Elph agreed. "Look, here on in this entry," he directed, pointing to an entry written in ornate script. The Mark was used as a power base and a guarantee of loyalty. What it doesn't say is how, but from what we learned from Peter Pettigrew, it gave him pleasure to do horrible and hateful things. What if that was the reward it speaks of?"

"Logical, master, but how is the Mark being spread without the artifact?" Severus asked.

Minerva transformed into her human form and sipped the nearby tea. "I think it could have been random. I've sat with Poppy enough listening to her talk of viruses and how they change to adapt to the host. What if this wasn't intended. What if it was a fluke of perfect timing and a horrible taint?"

Hermione tapped her head with her fingernail. "Typhoid Mary."

Curious eyes and all of them focused on Hermione.

"My parents once told me a story about a woman named Typhoid Mary," Hermione explained. "She was a carrier to a disease called typhoid fever. She didn't just survive it. She was oblivious to the fact she was infecting people left and right. She would have infected more had they not caught up with her. She had no idea she had the disease."

Elph leaned in closer. "So this Mark, magical and opportunistic, finds the perfect host in Peter Pettigrew, when with all of the others it was personal and, well, not benign as much as isolated. Maybe he had some childhood disease running around in his system, still dormant."

"Muggles have chicken pox and cow pox," Severus suggested.

"Pixie pox," Minerva replied. "Most of us get it when we're babies. We break out in purple and pink spots, see fairies everywhere for about a week, and then we're right as rain. At that point, usually, the virus has completely cleared the system and we gain immunity. But with a few, the virus decides to hide and linger on in the body. That could well have been the case with Mr Pettigrew."

Elph nodded. "I'll talk with our healers and our curse-breakers. We need to get a handle on this before it spreads to everyone from jealous people who think their significant other is cheating on them to drunks getting into bar fights. What if this thing spreads to Muggles? I'll have to talk with Healer Brindlefeld. She can be the liaison with Mungo's and make sure we get a handle on this, perhaps create some sort of inoculation that can prevent a full out infection to those we vaccinate. The last thing we need is a school full of Death Eaters the moment someone—"

"Acts like a hotheaded teenager?" Severus suggested.

Imogen chirred, slumping, shaking her head dolefully.

Minerva looked fairly disturbed by that prospect. "We will need to move very quickly on this," she recommended. "I'm not a potion master, so I cannot begin to know what it is going to take, but will we be able to get to people in time?"

"First we need a sample of blood from Typhoid Peter," Hermione said, her eyes darkening as her shoulders straightened. "I'll do it."

Minerva shook her head adamantly. " _ **No!**_ What if he infects you?"

Hermione gave a small smile. "He won't. The phoenix fire is in my blood, mam, and Fawkes will be with me. 'An I won be going in with ma' emotions on ma' sleeve." She smiled at her mother with a knowing smile.

Minerva twisted her tartan shawl with her hands and and then nodded. "A worry for ye," she confessed, her lilt as strong as ever.

Hermione hugged her mother.

Fawkes warbled and ruffled his feathers. He extended his wings out and seemed to fold them in on himself and darken into the shape of an eagle-owl. He landed on Hermione's shoulder and hooted.

Elph wrote something down on a piece of parchment. "Show this to Archamaude at St Mungo's. He'll get you in and be your partner while you are there. Be careful."

Hermione nodded. She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath. When she opened them, her eyes had darkened until they were nearly black and her expression was set like stone.

With a resounding crack, she and Fawkes disappeared.

Severus turned to his new master. "I'd like to learn how to do that."

Elph smiled. "Welcome to the Unspeakables, Severus. Learning begins now."

Imogen peep, peep, peeped her approval, then seemed to concentrate really hard. She folded in on herself to appear as the aptly-named little owl. She hooted victoriously.

Severus scooped her up and smiled.

* * *

It was odd, Hermione realised, that she had competent help and backup when on a mission. It was even more odd that she was on a mission that more than one or a small handful of people knew about. It was odd having a boss and a master, both of whom were looking out for her, and it was equally strange having the _song_ weaving its way through her head at all times.

It was somewhat like listening to the wireless in the background. The _song_ was always there. It was like the pulse and the breath of Fawkes and the other phoenixes connected together, and that included the chosen of each phoenix as well— they were all connected like a web.

And, irony of ironies, she could _sense_ Severus again— the younger, far less jaded, but still the quintessential familiar presence she recognised. Even if he was not _her_ Severus, it brought her peace to feel _him_ becoming more at peace. She missed her Severus, though— his almost pained smile that went against so many scowls and his tender, lingering touch that he gave her when his desire to be proper prevented him from doing more.

_You miss the love of your life. There is no shame in that._ Fawkes nuzzled her neck tenderly.

Hermione furtively wiped a tear from her eye. _I know, I mean, I think— I just miss him, but if he is happy here, now, then I will be happy for him._

_This is your time now, love._ Fawkes beaked her nose. D _on't be afraid to fight for what you love and believe in. Don't feel you can't be yourself for fear that he might not consider you. Free will gives him the choice to decide what he wants. That, too, is a gift._

Hermione hugged the phoenix gone owl with her arm, kissing his head. _I know, love. I just— need time to grieve for the man I loved._

Fawkes warbled, which sounded somewhat odd coming from an owl.

Hermione chuckled. _I had no idea you could appear as something else until our bond. To think that Ollivander— wow. Right under my nose._

Fawkes tugged on her ear with his beak. _People find it easier to see an owl rather than a phoenix or an old wizard instead of bird. People don't try to capture an owl like a magical curiosity like they do a phoenix either._

Hermione blinked and scratched the phoenix under the chin where he liked it. Fawkes murred and radiated contentment at her attention.

Healer Jarvis Archamaude, codenamed Comfrey, was a main healer for one wing involving the more violent patients at St Mungo's, so when Hermione gave him the debriefing on what she knew, the man's brows furrowed very hard on contemplating on what that could mean in a hospital where many of the patients in his ward were beyond being just violent. The amount of communication allowed between fellow Unspeakables was something entirely new to Hermione. Being able to just explain everything and have someone take you at your word was nothing short of amazing.

"It's not that I don't believe you, Whisperwings, because I do," Archamaude said. "I just wonder if there is a way we can halt the spread at least here at Mungo's by using a tranquilizing— _**OH!**_ "

Hermione startled.

"That thing you developed. Earflap briefed us on it a few days ago when it was added to our collective records," Jarvis said with a nod, referring to their ultimate "boss" by his not so boss-sounding callsign. "The diffuser that cleans the air and adds scent or potions," Archamaude said with excitement. "Could you use it to distribute a calming draught in low levels across the floor? I could add a little of my special potion I use for calming the magically enraged. It dulls the part of the mind that enhances and produces emotion, allowing our patients to sleep. It's not like the calming draught that has an addictive effect if used for too long. Healer Bradshaw mentioned if we could find a way to dose the entire hospital, it would make working the patients much easier," he chuckled. "Thing is, it's non-addictive; it's low level effective. If we mix it with the scent of spring flowers or something else completely innocuous, we would know exactly how far the potion reached and it could double as a olfactory calming aid as well."

Hermione pondered. "I don't see why not."

"It may not be able to stop the spread outside of Mungo's but we could keep our patients safe. If it works, we can filter it of into the sister hospitals and keep the affliction contained out of the scope of the health care facilities," Archamaude speculated. It's worth a shot until a more permanent method can be devised to kill off the spread permanently."

"That's a great idea, Comfrey," Hermione said with a nod, falling into the use of his callsign over his actual name.

Archamaude nodded. He pulled a vial out from his pocket.

"Do you have a crystal or something I can use as a focus?" Hermione asked.

"Will this do?" Jarvis asked, handing her a small rose quartz from his desk drawer.

"Perfect," Hermione said. "Do you want me to show you how to make it, or did Earflap already teach you?"

"I would love hands on teaching," Jarvis said. "Always better to get it from the hippogriff's mouth so to speak."

Hermione smiled. "The incantation is _Purifico Aer Dispergo_ ," she directed. "Purify, air, and scatter. You plant it inside the crystal. I bind the crystals to my or a specific group of people so they cannot be tampered with, and then I embed a Do-not-notice-me spell to the crystal to keep children, cats, the curious, et cetera from being drawn to come and poke at it. Surround the crystal with a _Aeternus Aura,_ everlasting air or breeze, to keep the airflow around it, so even if you are using it in a closed space, it will still work. The most important part, however, is to weave in a matrix that allows no poison or negative potion to be disbursed through it. I give it a fail safe just in case that someone might try to tamper with it; it shuts down and unravels, leaving just a the crystal behind in a purified state that resists corruption. I have a version of the spell that just purifies the air and adds the scent, but when dispersing potions, I found that anchoring the spell to a crystal that could be soaked in the potion you wish to disburse was more effective."

As Hermione had spoken, she had been casting at the same time. She held out the small rose quartz as it glowed with magic.

"Amazing," Jarvis said with a smile. "Let's get this thing installed and working before I attempt to replicate the spell."

Hermione poured the vial of potion over the crystal and left it in a small dish, waiting for the magic to absorb the draught. "Okay, do we have a central place to put this?"

"The atrium in the hospital will be perfect," Archamaude replied. "It has connectors from every wing and vents to all the main corridors. If we instill a lavender and chamomile scent to it for calm and relaxation, it will be all the better."

"Excellent," Hermione agreed.

Fawkes warbled. _I have an idea._

Hermione placed a hand on Archamaude's shoulder to stop him a moment. "Wait."

The healer waited, confused.

Fawkes talon shuffled down her arm to where she was holding the crystal. He leaned over it and allowed three tears to drip over it.

"Merlin," Archamaude whispered, realising what was going on. "This could do more than just— phoenix tears? This could do more than just calm people, Hermione. This could heal everyone who breathes it in."

Hermione gave gentle smile. "Let's install the crystal and get that blood sample back to Earflap."

Archamaude grinned. "I can't _wait_ to get to know you better, Whisperwings."

"Here's to many more meetings, Comfrey," Hermione agreed. "Let's go."

* * *

"He's been what?" Archamaude repeated stunned.

"Mr Pettigrew was sent to Azkaban this morning," the mediwitch at the desk said, tapping the log. The Aurors came for him. The Wizengamot ruled on his case after they confirmed he was responsible for the after they confirmed that his attack on Healer Barnes also resulted in the infection of Healer Marr. "

Hermione and Archamaude exchanged alarmed glances.

"Did they _touch_ him? "

The witch stared at them blankly. "Of course?"

"Martha, I need you to cancel my consults the rest of this afternoon," Archamaude said. "Anyone and everyone who has been exposed to Barnes, Marr, or Pettigrew needs to be isolated. They cannot be touched, do you understand? No physical contact at all. If someone _must_ be moved, place them in stasis and levitate them to an isolation room."

The mediwitch blinked. "At once, Healer Archamaude," she said, shuffling off to do as he required.

Archamaude made a movement with his wand and sent a Patronus zinging away. "Return to Earflap and debrief. Tell him that I will take care of things here. Make sure Azkaban doesn't become a broodmare to thousands of baby Death Eaters. When that is done, then he can worry about sending assistance to me. Your diffuser is working, and that will keep things here from getting any worse. All I have to do is make sure those that touched Pettigrew, Marr, or Barnes remain untainted. That is easier done under the guise of being merely a Healer."

Hermione nodded.

Fawkes chirped, nudging Hermione.

Hermione fumbled for something in her robes and pulled out a small vial. She unstoppered it and held it up. Fawkes leaned over it, letting loose a stream of tears into the crystal container. She stoppered it. "Here, Comfrey. Just in case."

Archamaude took it gratefully, clasping her shoulder and nodding his thanks to Fawkes. "I pray I won't need them. Go now. We both have fires to quickly put out."

The healer swept away leaving Hermione and Fawkes alone. Hermione closed her eyes, sighed, and Disapparated out with a crack.

* * *

_**Impromptu Raid at Azkaban Prison Reveals Magical Contagion** _

_Death Eater numbers have been rising at an alarming rate, but not in the way you might think._

_An investigation into the increasingly strange case of a Hogwarts' student turned Death Eater led Aurors from St Mungo's to Azkaban yesterday evening, only for them to walk straight into a Dark magic warzone that made the Battle of Przewalski's Leg look like a child's afternoon tea party._

_Most wizards and witches are aware of how the Dark Wizard Amaloth served tainted stew to those who were investigating his affairs. After eating it, they died and rose again as inferi under his command. Most believe this to be the ultimate example of dark depravity and ill-treatment of one's fellow humans, but yesterdays' event at Azkaban proved that some things can, indeed, prove far worse than even such grim tales of old._

_At least the men and women turned inferi were already dead before Dark Wizard Amaloth did unspeakable things to their corpses._

_According to the Ministry officials who arrived on site, they made it to the prison, only to walk into a bloodbath of truly monstrous proportions._

" _I've never seen such a horrific thing," Auror Vanderburg confessed. "They were murdering each other like it was some grand competition. There were those who seemed to take joy in it all, clearly revelling in the bloodshed, and there were the unfortunate victims. Sadly, there were a great many of both. If you even touched them, it was like the madness somehow crawled into your brain and you became one of them— if you resisted, they turned on you and tore you to pieces, using your lifeblood to christen their Marks."_

" _And then the Dementors descended," Auror Abrams said, his face haunted. "Drawn like moths to the flame. We couldn't stop them. I'm not sure we even wanted to— because if it hadn't been for the Dementors, they would have vastly outnumbered us. We'd still be in there, now, either descending into madness or praying for sweet merciful death."_

_When the Dementors retreated, there were only the dead, the Kissed, and the surviving Aurors left in Azkaban. Details have been withheld until some sense can be made of what happened. Rumour has it that Aurors will be sent to check any leads with people who may have been exposed to the student who is believed to be the original source of the deadly affliction that swept through Azkaban prison. Where that might lead them, however, is a mystery they are choosing not to reveal just yet._

* * *

"And, before I release all of you to enjoy yourselves at the End-of-Term feasts. we will be having the next few days as you pack for your journey home to another a wonderful summer holiday, I would like to introduce those who will be taking over for our retiring professors, Silvanus Kettleburn and Horace Slughorn," Dumbledore announced from the Head Table. "Professor Keme Mingan shall be taking over for Professor Kettleburn in the Care of Magical Creatures. Professor Elphinstone Urquart will become our newest Potion Master, and in the position of Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts, we have Professor Dragomir Krum. Please help me welcome them to their new positions here at Hogwarts, and I'm sure we wish them all well for the upcoming Autumn term."

Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully, gazing down at the gathered students. "I know you've worked very hard this year, and I am very proud of all of you. Ravenclaw, who came away with the House Cup, congratulations. Very, very well done."

"Just so no one is alarmed, I will tell you that we have a few guests coming to insure our safety here at Hogwarts in the wake of the ugly rumours brewing outside of Hogwarts. If you see them wearing brown robes, you will know they are Aurors. Please do not be alarmed. They are only here for our protection," Dumbledore drawled. "Starting tomorrow, students will be called for in groups to present themselves to Madam Pomfrey in our infirmary for a cursory health check up. We want to make sure each and every one of you are properly inoculated against the nasty little bug that has been floating around here lately. Madam Pomfrey assures me it will only take a few minutes of your time. Each Head of House has in their possession a schedule detailing which groups of students will be going to the infirmary at which times, and it will be posted in the common room of each house for your perusal. Your continued good health is of great important to us here at Hogwarts, and the last thing any of us want is for you to go home to spend much of your summer holidays sick and miserable with the Wizard Flu."

Chatter sharply rose in the aisles as people looked frantically at each other whenever anyone coughed, sniffled, or sneezed.

Dumbledore raised his hands to request quiet from everyone. "As a further announcement, I would like to congratulate, officially, Apprentices McGonagall and Snape, who have been taken on, respectively, as official new Transfiguration and Potions Apprentices. You will be seeing them at the sides of their masters throughout the year. It is important that everyone respect that while they are not full professors here, they will be assisting with teaching and attending to their duties as given to them by their masters. They are not affiliated with any house, but they will be able to give and take points as they see fit if they should see behaviour which is exemplar or outside of the rules. Please be as mindful of them as you would your professors when they are carrying on with their duties as apprentices."

"On the matter of apprentices, Professor Keme Mingan has expressed a desire to take on an apprentice in Care of Magical Creatures," Albus continued. "Those who wish to apply, may owl her to request an appointment for an interview sometime during the summer. The position will hopefully be filled before the start of the autumn term in September."

Albus clapped his hands together. "Enjoy yourselves, my young friends. I look forward to seeing you all at the start of the next term."

Albus sat down as the chatter rose in volume and both the students and the Head Table went about the business of eating.

* * *

"Are you feeling better, dearie?" Pomona asked Hermione as she passed the salad down. "I heard you and Severus had the bad luck to contract the Wizard Sleeping Flu."

Hermione smiled. "Much better, Professor Sprout," she answered.

"Psh, Pomona, at least when not in the hearing of the other students," Sprout laughed. "I think all of the professors here would agree. Too much of being addressed by titles by everyone, everywhere else."

Murmurs of general agreement went down the length of the table. "Good to see some fresh new blood taking up the reins," Flitwick said with an approving nod. "I'm glad that Elphinstone and Minerva haven't wasted time doing what most of us have considered doing for some time now."

"I hear you're quite a whiz at potions, Severus," Rolanda Hooch said. "Are you as good at potions are you are on a broom?"

Severus quirked a smile. "Better."

Hooch smiled broadly.

"Personally, I'm glad we have some new blood here before the new term starts. So hard to get into the groove of things when the students are just as new as the teachers," Vector noted. "Now if _**I**_ could just find someone who has a great love for Arithmancy, so I could retire."

"Good luck with that one, Septima," Minerva sniffed, pointing her salad fork at her in mock insult. "No one wants to be around endless numbers as much as you do, my dear."

Vector pretended to be highly affronted. "Well, I never!"

Hermione chuckled, giving Severus a quick amused glance.

"Well, we'll see, Minerva," Septima said with a sniff. "If your apprentice turns up as a cat, I will have a tin of catnip ready just to make things a little more interesting for you."

Minerva eyed Vector with amusement. "And what makes ye think she's a cat?"

"Maybe it runs in the family, Minerva," Kettleburn chuckled.

"Now you see here, Silvanus," Minerva huffed.

Chuckles went up and down the High Table, and Severus passed Imogen a strawberry, concealing it in his hand to make it look like he was handing her an owl nut. Imogen made it disappear in the blink of an eye.

_I never thought I'd get to hear what the High Table talks about,_ Severus projected, his mind-voice filled with a sort of strange awe.

Hermione chuckled, somewhat saddened by the absence of Fawkes, who was dutifully playing the part of the sadly neglected familiar up in the Headmaster's office.

Imogen projected a wave of unconditional love through the line at her, and Hermione smiled at the little owl-phoenix in disguise. It was hard to feel unloved when bound to phoenixes. She had no idea just how social they really were until fairly recently. Now, of course, it seemed to be so terribly obvious, so much so that she wanted to smack her older— younger— self and say "Why didn't you notice that, hrm? Psh, and people think you're the smartest witch of your age. Hogwash!"

Phoenixes, it seemed, cared for their adopted partners as much as they would for another phoenix, sometimes even more, and sometimes Ollivander would pop into the strange bonded awareness and check in on them, remind them to eat enough, rest enough, and say all the things a typical caring father would to their child. Part of Hermione wondered if Ollivander and Mr Granger would have gotten along well. Part of her believed they would have been just fine. The image of her father and Ollivander sharing a beer and watching the telly, though, amused her to no end. Between Minerva and Ollivander, it was almost like having parents again in all the places one needed them, and Elph was a close runner up for the balanced "I am the boss of you" mixed with "I do this because I actually care about what happens to you." He, much like her mam, knew how to balance his worlds just so, and she did notice that Elph being close by had given her mam a bit of peace of mind.

Not having to Apparate to the Ministry and give her debriefings was rather nice too.

Both Hermione and Severus had begun to realise the small tells of being an Unspeakable— small things like running your fingers along the arm where the wand was to the almost unnoticeable silent finger motions of silent gesture communication every Unspeakable was drilled with until they could spout out the directions to King's Cross station without saying a word and be perfectly understood. Well, provided the person who was watching them was also an Unspeakable, they could be understood. Anyone else— who knows what they would have thought they were seeing.

Severus had picked up the silent language much faster than she had, even with the help from the augmented phoenix memory. Phoenixes missed little and forgot even less, and they gifted that to their partners as well. Fortunately, phoenixes didn't hold grudges like people were prone to do, and that was also a gift they gave their partners. Both she and Severus had found themselves letting things go that they may not have felt able to before the bond.

Fawkes spend a lot of time with Hermione disguised as her eagle owl, but he made flashy showings in Dumbledore's office, making sure not only Albus but other professors that visited saw him swinging on the brass swing-perch. He would sometimes make some sort of snarky commentary about Albus that reminded her so much of a certain older Potions Master that Hermione would have to muffle her snorting chuckles behind her hand.

Hogwarts seemed to approve of the new professors as much as they did the apprentices, because no sooner than the order had come down to accommodate them with their joined quarters, that Hermione and Severus had been given shared apprentice quarters with a common room to share as well. Their private chambers branched off of it much like the arrangements for the Head Boy and Girl. The common room they shared had doors that led directly to their Master's quarters, even though they were technically on opposite sides of the school from each other. Magic was truly a wonderful thing.

Severus was beyond ecstatic about having been gifted with his own quarters that were conspicuously located where it would be extremely hard for someone bent on giving him grief to access. Being connected to his master's quarters, too, only made it that much more secure. Having a shared common room with Hermione seemed to give him a considerable bit of relief as well, as it allowed for socialising and phoenixes as well as Unspeakable chatter without having to worry about portraits or other people overhearing.

Ironically, now that he was set up to avoid being ambushed by the Marauders, both James and Sirius seemed to finally get themselves sorted out. The earlier Mark scare had taken them both to a terribly frightening place, and coming so very close to becoming bonafide Death Eaters was more than enough to put the fear of Merlin into the two boys in a way no other thing ever had.

Lily, who had been plainly avoiding the two so much for the last month or so, seemed to realise that there was perhaps something redeemable about James after he had fought off the taint and tried to keep Sirius from attacking her while under the influence of the Mark. Apparently, she had been spending her evenings in the infirmary, first to get their side of things, then to keep them company. That was the world on the faculty grapevine, anyway, and contrary to popular belief, the faculty did know what was going on around them more often than not. What they could do about certain things depending entirely upon the Headmaster's whim, and considering what Hermione personally knew of him, she wasn't all that impressed.

Lily had come by their shared Common Room for help on her project, which involved a bit more potions work than she had been expecting for a charms assignment. Even Hermione had admitted that Lily had chosen something a bit more complex than most sixth years would dare to attempt, potions-wise anyway. Sure, Hermione had successfully brewed Polyjuice in her second year, but that wasn't exactly the norm. She _had_ managed to turn herself into an anthropomorphic cat, too, but that really wasn't the fault of her brewing as much as a botched job of identifying cat versus human hair. Pobody's nerfect.

To this day, Hermione found herself somewhat susceptible to the joys of catnip and the unnerving desire to lay on her back in a sunbeam. Maybe the other professors had been correct in assuming she'd take after her mam. She _had_ tried to turn herself into a cat, albeit purely by accident. She'd actually thought she'd likely turn into an otter as her Animagus form, but for whatever reason, she had ended up a Saw-whet owl. Minerva had spent a day with her smuggled in under her hat, taking Hermione to a Muggle library to look up owl species at Cambridge. Had she been one of the local owls, Hogwarts' library would have sufficed, but Hermione had to be difficult by being some oddball secretive species from North America.

Hermione, the girl who hated flying on brooms, ended up becoming an owl. The irony wasn't lost on her. Harry would have laughed, had he known before— Hermione sighed. Why did she have to think about Harry?

"One anti-clockwise turn after you add the mulberry leaves," Hermione said, half-listening to their discussion between Severus and Lily. "Smash the berries with the flat of the blade and tweezer out the seeds before adding them or the potion will require lemongrass to counter the explosive flatulence."

Two pairs of eyes stared back at her.

Hermione slid her eyes up to peer back at them. "What? I paid strict attention in Potions class."

"What kind of teacher would be so persnickety as to teach you to tweezer out seeds from a mulberry before adding them to something?" Lily protested, sounding a little pouty.

Hermione's lips quirked slightly. "My m— my Potions professor was very particular about effectiveness over book knowledge. You couldn't have asked for better if you wanted to learn potions."

Lily shook her head. "They sound like a real hard arse, if you ask me."

Hermione's lips twitched.

"You were home-schooled right?" Lily asked.

Hermione, remembering her cover story, nodded in the affirmative.

"I can't imagine what that would be like," Lily confessed.

"Hey, Sev," she said, changing the subject.

"Hn?" Severus said, lifting his head from the parchment he was reading. "I think I finally figured out what to give Professor Slughorn for his retirement gift."

"An appointment calendar?"

Lily glared at him. "No."

"Dragon blood?"

Lily rolled her eyes. "Come on, Sev."

"The angels are aflutter with bated breath," Severus quipped. "Mistopheles' cherry cordial? Patridge's candied pineapple subscription?"

Lily narrowed her eyes and huffed. She plunked down a globe-shaped aquarium with a whitecap oranda goldfish in it. That she had been carrying that around with her, shrunken in a pocket was somewhat amazing in itself.

Severus eyed it. "I hope you plan to give him food, because I don't think the man remembers that animals also have to eat."

"Sev, why are you being so mean?"

Severus tilted his head. "'Mean' implies a deliberate intent to hurt. I am simply stating the obvious."

Lily sighed. "It's not a _real_ fish. It's a charmed fish. I made it for my project with Flitwick. It's a lily petal. I just haven't figured out how to make it so it doesn't need me around to keep it being a fish."

"Did you try putting a stasis charm on the lily petal before you transfigured it? Perhaps if you did that before you plucked it, so the petal itself stays alive? Maybe use one of those air plants that don't require dirt to live, or a water plant— maybe a water lily?"

"Sev, you're a genius!" Lily exclaimed. She grabbed him by the cheek and planted a kiss on his lips. "Thank you!" She exclaimed and dashed out of the common room.

Severus was frozen in place, a look of absolute shock plastered to his pale face.

"Goodnight, Severus," Hermione's voice said as she retired to her quarters, a strangely sad look upon her face. "Sleep well."

Imogen peeped a goodnight excitedly, her little wings flapping.

Hermione smiled at her, giving Imogen a scratch under the chin. Then she turned and headed up to her room without another word.

Severus brought his sleeve up to his mouth and wiped it off, feeling really awkward and uncomfortable all of a sudden.

"Hermione," he said into the silence.

Hermione turned, almost to her door.

"Thank you for helping me with Lily," he said, looking like he wasn't sure if that was what he really wanted to say just then.

Hermione gave him a gentle smile. "What are friends for?" She replied, retreating for the evening and letting the door close quietly behind her.

Imogen nailed Severus sharply on the ear.

"Ow!" He exclaimed. "What was that for?"

_**Peep! Peep! Peep!** _

The irritated little phoenix didn't even bother to project her thoughts in the Queen's English. He swore she did it on purpose just to make Hermione translate for her.

Severus scratched his head, baffled. He bundled up the books Lily had left behind in her haste to procure a water lily or some sort of living plant material before curfew and set them aside. Relief that he would be sleeping in his own bed took a close second to the fact that due to his apprenticeship, he would not have to return home to Spinner's End and his abusive father for the summer hols.

Severus yawned and stood, unkinking himself to head up towards his quarters. Elph and Minerva had warned the both of them to remain alert in the case there was any activity that might start at night. With the Death Eater plague spreading from place to place, it was probably best to get to sleep early, just in case they had to be up to heed the call of their masters.

Imogen yawned beakily in his face as if to share her own sleepy opinion on the matter.

After mindlessly brushing his teeth and washing his face, he curled up under his duvet and was fast asleep within minutes, thankful that the boy that seemed to have nothing but truly horrible luck to his name was _finally_ catching a break.

* * *

**A/N:** I don't know about you, but it's bedtime for I and my beta!


	5. Mark of the Beast

**A/N:** Arrrrgh! Booterang!

**Beta Love:** Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01

* * *

**Time for a Change**

**Chapter 5**

**Mark of the Beast**

_Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness. -Desmond Tutu_

"No, I don't feel like this is necessary," Albus said as he leaned back in his chair. "Naturally, I am not questioning the Aurors being here for the safety of the children, but giving you access to fiddle with the school wards? I'm sorry, I simply cannot do that. It's bad enough that you want to perform mandatory health examinations of everyone thanks to the recent scare at Azkaban, but this is a school, gentlemen, and not a prison."

"Headmaster, I _know_ this seems drastic," Auror Moody explained, his patience visibly starting to fray, "but we have every reason to believe that there are freshly-minted Death Eaters here at the school, some by choice and some via contagion. The wards would make it impossible for such people to enter the school and, Merlin forbid, infect someone!"

Fawkes gave a musical sigh from his perch, looking over at the gathered men arguing with his alleged master. As much as Hermione had wanted to just put some of her diffusion spreaders throughout Hogwarts, such an undertaking would not have been nearly as effective as warding the school by tapping the right spell into the school's ley lines at the same time. Both things had to be done until a more permanent way of dealing with the contagious Mark situation could be figured out. To that end, the Unspeakables were pulling all the stops in research, working with both the trusted Aurors, alchemists, historians, and healers to put a permanent end to that particular threat.

Thankfully, the Azkaban situation had ended up fixing itself, thanks to the Dementors, as it seemed that the very specific combination of infection Mark and sadistic thoughts made for especially fine dining for the Dark spectres. Dementors were not, however, something you would ever want to set loose all over Europe. That would not end well.

Fawkes warbled the Hogwarts song idly, which seemed to please Dumbledore. At least something did, given how cranky the headmaster was being lately, not that he ever paid much attention to Fawkes anymore. The old goat had so much more on his mind, so much so that he neglected just about everything else from personal hygiene to remembering that phoenixes liked to eat too.

Thank Merlin for house elves and the few scattered ever-fruiting fruit trees in the Dark Forest. There was always going back to visit his father, of course, whose table was always open to him, but it felt somewhat demeaning for a centuries-grown phoenix to have to return to the nest to get proper food. He ate his humble pie and did it anyway, because starving himself only made him cranky, and a cranky phoenix tended to molt or have a burning day. Burning days were troublesome because then the hunger just got _worse_. Then there was explaining to your father why you spontaneously combusted for no other reason than because you were hungry.

Good job there, Fawkes. Bad enough it took you this long to find the _one._ Then you weren't satisfied with just snapping her up in the first timeline. No, you had to wait until she got thrown back in time to meet you again.

Fawkes preened himself, fussing at his feathers and putting them in proper alignment.

No, this time was _right_. She had experienced the hunger and the need to join with him. All the other times had been close, but it had never been quite right. She hadn't been ready yet.

Now, everything was cemented. She had her mam. His father was going to love on her for next however many cycles of the sun he planned to keep rebirthing himself, and Fawkes would be there for her for as long as he had breath. Also helpful was that Imogen had chosen to inflict— er, gift— herself on Severus, as that gave Hermione one anchor to her original sense of self. Throughout time. They would forever hear each other in the _song_.

Now they just had to stop tap dancing around each other and succumb to the bond that everyone _but_ them seemed to realise was there. Though, Fawkes supposed, it's not like they were used to seeing forwards and backwards in time like a phoenix. They would, sometime later, when such things became more naturalised to their changing bodies, but for now, they were still thinking a bit two or three dimensionally. The fourth dimension was still a bit out of reach. Soon though, as the _song_ sang them to sleep and fused to their souls, they would fully understand.

Until then, however, Imogen would have her beak busy pecking Severus into line, driving him away from his lingering negative thoughts and memories of a painful past. He was already healing and becoming more apt to let things go, and that was a good thing. Being bound to a phoenix _did_ have its mental health perks. Imogen was convinced, however, that Severus was the one for her, and after seeing his struggles throughout many alternative futures, he knew that Severus reached his potential so much more when he and Hermione found each other. Father, daughter, master, apprentice, begrudging friends, or tolerated co-workers— whatever the fate that put them together— those two were always better together. _Vullen elkaar goed aan_ , as his Dutch-living nestmate was prone to say. Some things were just made for another.

While there were timelines where the two were nothing more than annoyed professor and the hand-waving student that could never please him, Fawkes did prefer the ones where they left that silliness behind. They were both much healthier that way.

Fawkes narrowed his eyes, choosing to focus on chewing on his foot to make it look like he was really working on getting his talons thoroughly clean. In all the cases, there was one person that always seemed to be the single direct influence to the pairs' ultimate fate, whether they met and became something more or something horribly less: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

Fawkes had chosen to stay with the headmaster because being with Dumbledore ultimately led to _her._ And every time he saw her, he would check on her, seeing if it was _the_ time and wondering if the hunger would be there— the need. But she had always been too young, or too preoccupied by some other task. The conditions had never been right. So close, but not quite right.

Now that they were bonded, they were bonded across all the time streams, and all of Fawkes, wherever he was, would know she was the one. So, too, would his father. The waiting had ultimately had the best outcome in the end.

Alastor Moody was getting frustrated with Albus, and, well, Fawkes was hardly one to blame him. The wizard could barely groom the lemon drops out of his beard on a good day let alone see when putting up additional wards would be the wisest move to improve the safety the school.

Albus, of course, touted the concept of freedom as his main reason. Forcing inspections was a breach of privacy, something Albus valued more than anything. Of course he did. Considering all of the highly questionable things he got himself into, it was amazing he could keep it all straight.

As for tapping into the school ley lines to put up a permanent anti-Dark magic and specific anti-Death Eater ward, Fawkes knew it had nothing to do with doing the right thing and everything to do with hiding just how intimately connected the Headmaster was to the school's leylines. As long as he was headmaster of Hogwarts, he would be able to tap into an almost limitless stream of magical reserves. It was no wonder he didn't like to leave Hogwarts very often.

If Tom Riddle challenged Dumbledore here at Hogwarts, there was really no question as to who would win. Take Hogwarts out of the equation, however, and the battle would then be much more about skill rather than access to a nigh-limitless power base. What were the chances of the headmaster leaving his position at Hogwarts when even the heady lure of becoming Minister for Magic couldn't do it? Not bloody likely.

Ley lines really didn't concern phoenixes. Phoenixes greatly preferred timestreams. The price of always been saturated in time was in intense craving for fructose in any and all natural forms. The price for being too reliant on ley lines, however, Fawkes wasn't sure, but he was pretty sure Albus Dumbledore was living case study. Being a phoenix didn't make you omniscient, simply better apt to making informed decisions, but a phoenix tended to keep his or her beak focused on their immediate family. Albus, short of his role in being quite the pain in the keester for everyone around him, really wasn't a priority concern for him. Now, however, being fully bonded to Hermione, Albus had graduated from low-priority meddler to top-priority concern. Anything that threatened his bond mate was top on the list of priorities.

That, unfortunately, meant playing the oblivious little pet phoenix that Albus knew and expected— useful for carrying heavy things and making convenient theatrical exits. Fawkes itched his wings and set himself briefly on fire to burn away the pesky little buggers that were trying to treat him like a typical bird. Tiny plumes of ash fell away from his body as the dead parasites burnt away. Damnable bloodsuckers. Try to drink _my_ blood, will you?

"You are welcome to stay until the children are safely on the train home, my Auror friends," Dumbledore said at last, "but, I draw the line at permanently tampering with the school's wards. The wards have been unchanged since the time of the Founders and have always been all the protection Hogwarts needs."

Some of the headmaster portraits seemed uncomfortable as though they _wanted_ to say something but couldn't.

Fawkes froze in his preening to stare a hole through the back of Albus' head. Now that was a _blatant_ lie. He _knew_ Dumbledore had been tinkering with the ley-wards in an attempt to create his own. He'd actually managed to deactivate one of the more ancient wards during his fumbling. What that had done, however, still had yet to be determined. Fawkes had the distinct feeling, however, that the ward he had blithely dismantled had been the beginning of some of the more distasteful happenings that had been going on in Hogwarts ever since.

Namely the Dark spells of one Tom Riddle going unnoticed for years… at a school that had been partially founded on the need to prevent such magic from influencing the impressionable youth. It just didn't make sense. No, Fawkes was _certain_ that what Auror Moody was wanting to put in the wards was something that HAD been there originally. The Founders were a team and the best of friends who truly cared about the future of their youth. If they tied wards to the ley-lines, they would have been protective spells.

Why dismantle a protective ward?

Fawkes started gnawing on his other foot.

He just hoped that the school didn't find out what it was missing in the most dangerous way possible: when the wards failed them.

* * *

Aberforth Dumbledore opened one eye blearily as something slammed hard into his window shutters.

_What?_

He cast a Lumos long enough to get his bearings and stagger over to the shut window. It was stuck closed after the last freak blizzard, that tended to happen whenever someone had a great party down at the Three Broomsticks. His tavern would get snowed on, half of his bar stools would get turned into goats, and they would breed with his real goats, giving him a small herd of kid-stools that had to be explained away to the Ministry as not being some rabid experiment gone wrong from a strange bloke reputed to have an exceedingly unhealthy obsession with goats.

He not so politely reminded himself that he could probably have come up with a better cover than being a bleeding goat lover.

He smashed open the shutters and a small owl tumbled through with a relieved hoot. Aberforth felt the tingle in that very specific place in his back. Ah. Business came on the wings of the silent night. The owl landed on his desk and held out her foot, allowing him to take the parchment as he read the band on her leg.

"Ah," he said, reading the parchment. "I'll put on a kettle for tea, please follow me."

Hermione shifted back to her human form with a sleepy yawn and nodded, gratefully following Aberforth down the stairs into the closed tavern.

"Whisperwings, is it?" Aberforth chuckled. "At least you don't have the callsign 'Goat'."

Hermione flinched, completely aware of Aberforth's reputation.

Aberforth sighed. "I will confess it was funny back when I was younger and everyone knew it was a cover, but now parents are told to stay away from me because I might be contagious and have their kids rutting with goats just from being around me."

Hermione flinched.

"It's fine, of course," he said. "No one suspects me of being an Unspeakable, that's for sure, and the things I hear over a drunken tirade. Hoowee."

He handed her a fresh cup of tea with a nod. Hermione downed it gratefully. "Have you heard anything about people being recruited for either the Dark Lord or the Mark?"

"I know Earflap likes to think I can pull a minotaur out of my arse, but things have been too quiet around here lately, Whisperwings," Aberforth said with a deep intake of breath. "Things around here have always been prone to the occasional brawl, but hell, after that last one a few days ago, it's all been blissfully quiet. Rookwood came in a few days ago brief me on something, and he ended up punching some drunken lout off a lady. He ended up taking the lady to a room, like he normally does, trying to save them like the knight is always is. You know, he sets them up for the night, makes sure they have food and a warm place to stay and aren't Apparating home drunk. I swear he's paid for more rooms here than my actual customers."

"Did anything happen to him?"

"What? Rookwood?" Aberforth laughed. "No. He came down later, looking pretty pleased with himself and the guy he socked in the face? They sat down and shared a round of drinks. Man always was quite the social butterfly. Hell, he's made a habit of stepping in front of people's punches lately. Then it's like they are best mates. It's really peculiar, but nothing I wouldn't say was out of place for Old Rook. He's always been one who could turn his enemy into his ally. It's like people get drunk, angry, throw a few punches, and then share drinks afterwards."

Aberforth stroked his beard and frowned. "You know, that is the strange part of it. The making up. People don't just get chummy after a brawl. Not often. Not like that. Even for Old Rook that's—"

"A little too good to be true?"

Aberforth nodded.

"It's transferred by touch and then strong emotions such as hate," Hermione said. "Jealousy, loathing, and possibly lust. We're not sure if lust spreads it or is just an aftereffect."

"Are you kidding me?" Aberforth said. "That's like every bloke at a tavern and maybe every teenager with working hormones. Hell, everyone has strong emotions from one point or another, and that doesn't necessarily have anything to do with being a Death Eater."

"Rest assured, if you are infected and it takes root, you will be one if blood gets on it," Hermione said. "Blood seems to be the key. You can resist all the way up to the point where blood gets on it. Then, you're the servant of the Mark. They seem to blame it on the Dark Lord, but it's the Mark itself they serve. Spreading it is priority number one."

Aberforth was horrified, eyes wide. He moved up his sleeve saying, "Merlin, I touched them. I'm always picking someone up off the floor after a fight."

Hermione stared at the grey mark sitting just under the skin.

"No," Aberforth groaned.

Hermione tore at her robes to make a barrier for the dark magic. "We have to get it covered—"

Aberforth's grip closed around her arm. "Why don't we just share a hug, lass?" His voice crooned strangely.

Hermione looked into Aberforth's face and saw how his eyes had gone glassy. His arm was trembling, darkness writhing under his skin, forming the Mark. "Fight it, Aberforth!" Hermione hissed. "Fight it!"

Aberforth's eyes seemed to get less hazy. "It— it wants you!" His grip tightened around her arm as his skin writhed, black tendrils slithering slowly towards her skin.

Hermione could sense he was fighting the compulsion, but it was stronger than it should have been for a Mark that had been grey only moments before. Something was spurring it on.

"Got a new convert, Aberforth?" Another voice crooned. "Good, make us proud, brother."

Hermione's eyes flashed over to the side. An older man with greying hair and a beaklike nose was coming out from the back room. There was a woman on his arm whose clothes were only half on. She was breathing a little heavily from exertion. She ran her hand up and down the man's arm, caressing the Dark Mark as if in worship.

"Rookwood," Aberforth hissed, his hand trembled, as though he were trying to release Hermione.

"Don't fight it, brother," Rookwood said. "You'll feel so much better if you let it help you."

_Fawkes!_

"Hermione," Aberforth's eyes met hers. She could tell he was struggling. "Break the goat." His eyes flicked to the shelf behind the bar.

Suddenly, Hermione was free, and Aberforth clutched his head. Hermione dove to the side, sending a _Stupefy_ flying off to hit Rookwood's female companion. Hermione found the goat figurine on the shelf and smashed it to the ground.

A bright light burst from the shattered figurine, filling the room. The sound of bodies hitting the floor filled Hermione's ears as she dove behind the bar. There was a blast of radiant heat as Fawkes appeared in a blaze of glory, wings and body spinning in a cyclone of red and orange flame. Severus and Elph appeared underneath him, back to back and wands at the ready.

Aurors burst in front door shortly after.

_It is clear._ Fawkes voice said, his concerned warble coming from across the room. _They seem to be disabled. Did you do this?_

_No. Aberforth had a spell bound to this figurine. Shattering did something, but I didn't want to stand up and find out._ Hermione caught her breath and stood, signalling to them.

Elph gave her a few silent signals. Hermione made the signs for how many and location. He stared at her when she indicated Rookwood and Aberforth being compromised.

He snapped out of it long enough to bark orders to the Aurors who knew him, warning them not to touch anyone while taking them into custody.

Aberforth was laying flat on his back in the middle of the floor, his eyes glassy with whatever paralysis had taken him over. Severus was carefully binding each body he found, from Rookwood to the hidden "guests" in the back room who had apparently been watching and waiting to come in and overpower Aberforth if he failed to do his "duty."

All of them had the Mark.

"How many of them are blooded?" Elph asked.

Severus looked down at the pile in front of him. "These are all recent, they are not blooded. That one there, however, is." He pointed to the woman who had been hanging on Rookwood's arm.

"Aberforth," Hermione cried, kneeling down beside him. "He's still trying to fight it. We have to help him before he goes mad."

She touched his forehead.

"The touch!" Elph reminded her.

"He's already touched me, Master," she snapped. "If I was going to be infected, I'd be succumbing by now." She pulled up her sleeve to expose pristine flesh.

Elph looked dubious, but he nodded.

"Severus, help me," Hermione directed. "I need you to sing the spells to him as I draw out the taint."

Severus looked horrified, but knelt beside her. Imogen peeped hysterically from Severus' shoulder, and he soothed her with his hand. She didn't quiet, however, and peeped at Aberforth, fluttering her wings.

"What is it?" Severus asked the little bird.

Imogen set herself on fire and landed on Aberforth's arm, digging her tiny claws deep into his arm. His arm hissed as an oily black substance rose from the wounds like tainted blood, smelling of foul rot and evil. She dug her claws in again, piercing his arm, and the blackness seemed to ooze out more quickly.

Hermione cast the spell Healer Bradshaw had taught her, Severus sang, and Aberforth let out a long winded gasp as his body spasmed. Hermione stared at the reaction of the mark to the little phoenix, her mind working miles a minute as comprehension clicked.

_Fawkes, my love. May I have a feather? Just a small one, maybe a secondary or a breast feather?_

_Of course,_ the phoenix replied. He preened his breast feathers and plucked a bright orange feather and beak-passed it to her.

_Severus, I need you to cast a concentrated shrinkage spell as I cast a diffusing charm into the feather._ Hermione met his black eyes without flinching.

Severus nodded.

Hermione held out her hand with the feather in it and Severus put his hand over hers and their two combined spells flashed together. Hermione and Severus hissed as the energy flashed, and Hermione guided the shrinking, concentrated feather into the skin of Aberforth's arm.

The black ooze seemed to shrink back violently as it contacted the tendrils of flame coming off the feather. It was fleeing the arm even faster— anything to get away from the feather's pristine purity.

Imogen radiated a wreath of cleansing fire, burning the blackness with her flames and her presence, screaming at it in defiance, but Fawkes' feather was doing all of the real work to drive the poisonous black ooze from the arm. The black ooze fled Aberforth's body as his arm began to glow brightly. Hermione embedded the shrunken phoenix feather into his arm much as Ollivander had set their Unspeakable wands into each of their own arms. The warm glow of phoenix fire spread through Aberforth's body and he let out a long gasping sigh of relief.

"It's gone," Aberforth breathed. "Thank Merlin, it's gone. I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry."

Hermione touched his forehead and wiped the sweat from his brow. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

Imogen cried a stream of tears down on Aberforth's torn up arm, helping heal the talon-inflicted wounds.

"Not to be demanding, Apprentice McGonagall," Auror Winchester said from where he was standing over Rookwood, "but can you do whatever you did to Aberforth to this guy. He's starting to convulse!"

_Fawkes?_

_Hrm?_

_Do you mind donating a few more feathers tonight?_

_Only if you promise to pluck a few from the little lintball too._

Imogen glared at Fawkes indignantly. Then, as if to make a point, she spontaneously shed all of her down and pin feathers into a neat pile.

Hermione and exchanged glances with Severus, who was looking a bit appalled by his suddenly naked phoenix.

"Let's get to work!" She said to Severus aloud so the Aurors would know what was going on.

* * *

Severus and Hermione gratefully took the energizing potion from Elph as they finished setting the last feather into every arm of those who were half-marked and the Auror team. Then, to be extra careful, they embedded one into Elph after pinning him down, retrieving him from his job of running around and trying to keep people from panicking.

"Merlin, Elph, it was horrible," Rookwood said to him quietly. "It was like the only thing I wanted was to spread the Mark. The Mark gave us this sense of belonging. I wanted it. I _needed_ it. It was horrible."

Elph laid a hand on his shoulder along with Aberforth. "We'll have the healers check you out, but I am glad we got to you before someone could bleed on you.

Rookwood shook his head. "Elph, you have to know. The only reason we weren't blooded by her," he said pointing to the woman. "Was that she had plans for us to prove ourselves tonight."

"What?" Elph replied.

"Once I corrupted Aberforth, she told us we were go together to Hogwarts, where one of the blooded was to let us in."

"Hogwarts?" Elph gasped. "No, what about the wards?"

Rookwood shook his head. "I don't know. She seemed convinced it wouldn't be a problem, not that she really cared. She said all deaths for the glory of the Dark Lord were _good_ deaths— even if it was us."

Elph stared at the woman, waving his hand over her. "Not Bellatrix, but damn if she doesn't seem to fit the bill."

"Can we drive the taint out of her as well? With the feathers?" Elph asked Hermione.

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know. I knew it would work for Aberforth because I saw how the tain fled from Imogen's wounds and fire. It made sense that diffusing the essence of the feather into the body would protect him as well as cure him from the taint. I have no idea if it would work again a blooded Death Eater."

"I call witness that this woman is a Death Eater," Elph said loudly. "I cite emergency code 14-52F of Article 17. Any opposed?"

All the Aurors shook their heads. "We witness," the said, saluting with their wands.

Hermione's eyes widened.

"Do it. We have to know," Elph ordered. "We have a hundred thousand students and professors over there that may rely on us being able to inoculate them. If we can't, we need to know _now_."

Hermione nodded, swallowing hard. She pulled another feather out from the pouch of Imogen-donated fluffs. She closed her eyes, focusing, and blew on the feather until it was radiant with bright orange fire. She and Severus slammed their hands together over the feather with a flash of magic. Hermione guided the concentrated feather into the unknown Death Eater's arm.

The woman began to violently convulse almost instantly. Her body flailed about as though it were drowning. Flecks of foam flew from her mouth as she made harsh choking sounds. A heavy sweat broke out over her body, but then a wave of unnatural heat seemed to blast off of her, just before her entire body burst into flames. Black ooze seemed to seep out of every pore— far more than what had come out of Aberforth or the other victims. It was as though her insides had been liquified into the same foul black contagion.

Her body seemed to sag into itself like a falling souffle, and then shriveled and burned completely, until nothing was left but a human-shaped pile of oily black ash.

Everyone stared at the pile of black ash.

Hermione and Severus exchanged horrified looks.

One truly unflappable Auror in the bunch leaned over with a magical evidence bag and used his wand to fill the bag with the ash. He sealed it, marking it with identification and handed it over to Elph. "I don't think we have an evidence filing system for anything like this, sir."

Elph took the bag with a distinct curled lip, looking as though he might hurl at any moment. He handed Hermione and Severus another vial of potion apiece. "Drink up and go warn Minerva. If there is enough time, try to plant your diffusers in every planter, archway, lavatory, or closet. If emotion is what spreads this thing, I want it taken out of the equation. We'll worry about asking forgiveness after we're sure everyone is safe. If you have the opportunity, inoculate who you can. Everyone you can get to, do so. Start with the Aurors, Madam Pomfrey, and the Heads of House, because they are the ones who are going to be in the thick of it. After that, staff as you can find them, patrollers, Head Boy and Girl, whatever you have to. The more people we can get to before this even happens, the better. Meanwhile, I'm dropping these guys back at the Ministry and picking up a few servings of Aurors to throw at this situation. These guys here are all cleared. Moody is cleared. If you need to talk to someone about what you are doing there with the Aurors, you can be frank with them."

Hermione and Severus nodded as Fawkes and Imogen clung to their shoulders. Then they disapparated with a resounding _crack_.

* * *

"I _hate_ them!" Marcy cried, seething. "They always make fun of me."

Yaxley patted her back, pulling her into the dark shadows between the pillars. "It's okay to hate them," he purred. "They deserve it."

"They always act like they are so much better than me," Marcy complained. "They get their perfect grades and parade them around. Sure I'm Ravenclaw too, but that doesn't mean I want them to shove their grades into my face."

Yaxley nuzzled her. "You are a fine young woman," he purred. "I think you just need to show them who is more powerful. Book knowledge is great, but what good is it if you can't use it effectively?"

"I just want to—" she trailed off and sighed. "I'm just a horrible person.

"No, please, what were you going to say?"

"I just want to hurt them, you know?" Marcy confessed. "I want to see them pay."

"Preaching to the choir, love," Yaxley purred, his mouth teasing her neck, causing her to moan softly. "Just think of how much you hate them, and I promise, you'll feel so much better."

His lips met hers, and Marcy gasped as a thrill of pleasure tingled down her spine. "Oh!"

"That's it love," he purred, his hands slipping under her robes. "Think of how much you loathe them. Think of what they deserve."

Marcy's eyes fluttered, her mouth parting as she began to pant. "They deserve to suffer," she breathed heavily. "Filthy Mudbloods."

Yaxley smiled, basking in her growing bias and hate. "Tell me what you want to do with them."

"I want, I want—"

Yaxley smiled as the Dark taint oozed out of his arm, coating his skin with black. It writhed and slithered over onto Marcy's skin as he rubbed her arm.

"I want to hurt them," Marcy confessed. "I want them to be in pain."

The taint responded to her confession by burrowing into her arm. Her arm convulsed, the taint moving under her skin.

"AH!" Marcy groaned, her eyes rolling back. "Don't stop please."

Yaxley smiled as his mouth covered hers and the lust rose between them, their hateful thoughts fueling their enhanced biological need to consummate the bond growing between them in every way possible.

Marcy tugged open her collar, panting. "Please," she whispered.

"My pleasure," Yaxley purred, tugging open his robes as he pulled her into the nearby broom closet. "All that serve our Lord shall be rewarded."

Later, as their bodies lay sweaty and entwined, Yaxley pointed his wand at his hand and cast a spell. Rivulets of blood dripped from his palm and he moved so it would land on Marcy's fading mark. The blood seemed to absorb into her skin almost immediately where the mark lay, and Marcy let out a low moan of pleasure.

"I serve the Mark of our Lord," Marcy sighed in pleasure. "Forever."

Yaxley smiled. "Give me a kiss, lover, and let us think of their pain together."

Marcy's lips curved into a cruel smile.

* * *

Hermione had a clingy phoenix, and she really wasn't quite sure what to think about it.

Fawkes clung to her shoulder in his eagle owl form, glaring at anyone and everyone who would dare to so much as at her wrong.

_You know you need to go back and be on your perch in case we have to wake the headmaster._ Hermione scratched Fawkes on the breast feathers.

Fawkes managed to make something that sounded like a warble mumble in reply.

_Love you too, dearheart._ Hermione smiled at the owly phoenix. _Thank you for coming to my rescue with help._

Fawkes nuzzled her face and launched off her shoulder, flying out the dark window and back up towards the headmaster's office.

Both Hermione and Severus had managed to set up a number of diffusers to take the emotional spread out of the equation. The Aurors had "taken the blame" for "warning" Minerva, so she was off telling the Headmaster that there was most likely going to be a Death Eater attack at the school that night.

Minerva had taken it upon herself to get all of the teaching staff to the infirmary to be inoculated against the infective Dark Mark, and all question about whether they really needed it instantly went out the window the moment anyone heard the words "contagious Dark Mark" and "this will protect you from becoming infected."

Hermione and Severus had made as many inoculation doses as they had feathers, and Imogen's giant pile of half grown feathers had provided as many as they they could make. They had turned them all into obsidian shards in appearance so they didn't scream phoenix feather and handed them off to Madam Pomfrey after inoculating her and teaching her how to do it. The matron promptly took possession of the rest so Hermione and Severus were freed to attend to the other tasks that still needed to be taken care of.

The members of all four houses were fast asleep, and that made Hermione very nervous. If anything was going to happen, it was probably going to happen now, when most of the castle was asleep. Poppy had already evacuated the sick and wounded via the infirmary floo to St. Mungo's. That left the rest of the students.

Minerva had told her house-elf to ask the night elves on duty to find and wake the Head Boy and Girl and get them to the infirmary for inoculation as well as all of the prefects. The prefects didn't seem terribly enthused by all the drama, but when they found themselves in the infirmary surrounded by both concerned professors and aurors, they all took it a little more seriously. Lucius was doing what he did best— being authoritative and keeping the younger students calm and focused.

Severus met up with her as backup, and she felt a little better thanks to his growingly familiar presence. There was a lot of things about him that seemed so very familiar to her, which was a relief in many ways. Severus was still Severus in the ways that mattered. The spread of the Dark Mark was only enhancing those parts of him that were so much like the Severus she remembered: caution, self-preservation, critical evaluation, and the tendency to have the wand ready before the actual question. He wasn't the polished spy of thirty some years, but she wasn't expecting him to be, yet she knew he very well could be. All it would take was the right push in the right or wrong direction. Yet, part of her knew that thanks to Imogen, he would never be the same calloused and almost eternally wounded soul he had seemed to be in her remembered past.

Imogen knew Hermione was thinking of her, and she sent a warble of happiness at her that caused her to smile. It was really hard to be unloved with a phoenix in your life. Even if Imogen wasn't _her_ phoenix bond-mate specifically, the _song_ connected them.

Something was lurking in the back of her mind. Something important. She just couldn't quite put her finger on it.

Salazar Slytherin was the first Unspeakable. He left Hogwarts in shame on purpose to cut himself off from the other Founders to protect both the secrets the world wasn't ready to know and his old friends and students. He'd put the Chamber of Secrets in to protect the corrupted once-healing artifact. Everything he had done was to protect Hogwarts.

Why then was the school severely lacking on the wards that would have or should have protected against the Dark Magic's influence? Salazar did not strike her as an idiot. The Founders, too, were not unfamiliar with the influence of Dark Magic either. Hogwarts was reknowned as a bastion of protection. Until the last few decades, Hogwarts had been incident free. What had changed? Had anything changed?

Hermione narrowed her eyes. Surely Hogwarts had some sort of elaborate wards in place. Why, then, weren't they working? The anti-Apparate Jinx was functioning. The Jinx on the damnable DADA position was still there. _How_ was it there? Four Founders of Hogwarts couldn't preplan for some idiot trying to cheat their way into a professorship? No way. Hermione refused to believe it.

Suddenly, something hit Hermione right upside the head. Duh!

Hermione was running, and Severus was already following behind her.

_Where are we going?_ His mind voice was full of questions.

Imogen was clinging to his shoulder, peeping in her need to keep to Severus' shoulder.

_A place that we really need to be in._

_What?_

_Hogwarts is magical. We all accept that._

_Yes?_

_Why is it magical?_

A pause. _The ley-lines I suppose?_

_Yes, and how do you access them?_

Silence.

_Help comes to those in Hogwarts to those who need it._

_Okay?_

_We really, really need a way to save Hogwarts._

_Help me out here, Hermione._

They screeched to a halt in an empty left corridor on the seventh floor in front of a disturbing tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy trying to teach the trolls ballet.

_Think really, really hard about needing to help Hogwarts help us._ Hermione tapped her head with a finger. Now, walk up and down this corridor until it happens.

_What happens?_ Severus questioned.

_I have no idea, but I'm hoping it's a room._

Severus gave her a very distinctive arched eyebrow.

Hermione made a face halfway between a smile and a grimace. _I'm sorry, I don't have any better way to explain. Trust me. You'll know when it happens!_

Severus looked at her carefully, feeling out the vibration of the _song_ between them. _I— trust you._

Imogen warbled with warm approval.

Hermione's expression softened, warmth flicking through the _song_.

A crashing sound came from down the hall, and yelling soon after.

"Get away from her, you death-eating freak!"

Severus and Hermione dropped everything and began to run. Hermione called in the shields as Severus reinforced them, weaving in his energy to support what she had done. Imogen peep-hooted, clinging to Severus' shoulder with her smaller owlish claws. Each drew out their wands as they ran even as Hermione sent a Patronus zinging away towards Elph and Minerva.

"Now, now," a voice patronised. "Is that any way to treat your future brother?"

"I would _NEVER_ align myself with the likes of you!"

"I once thought as you did, Frank," the other voice chuckled. "But your hatred will set you free."

"No! No! NOerrrkg!"

"Get away from them!" A familiar pair of voices screamed.

Hermione and Severus arrived in time to see James and Sirius do a flying tackle to slam Cyprian Parkinson to the floor, freeing Frank, who had murder in his eyes for Walden Macnair.

Walden, who was holding Alice in a strangely intimate, yet perverted embrace, held her still as the blackness from his arm seeped into hers. Her body was already convulsing, her eyes glazing over.

Hermione gestured to Severus silently, keen to fix what James and Sirius had inadvertently done in an effort to help: freed Frank so he would ultimately try to rescue Alice and thus get himself infected. It was a no-win situation. Had Frank been held down by Parkinson, he would have been infected. Released, he was going straight for Alice, who was already infected. Touch, emotions, hell the only thing that didn't seem to spread the contagion was air, and Severus was already starting suspect the infection might have already mutated so as to become airborne.

Hermione seemed to share his grim opinion, finding herself every bit as distressed as he was at how easily the Dark Mark infection was spreading.

_Did it spread like this before?_ Severus asked, giving her a pointed look.

Hermione shook her head. _No. Not even close. Somehow something changed at some point. Something significant. If anything it was spread by— pain. It was spread through marking each person with a painful ritual and every time the Dark Lord called, his servants knew instantly through the searing, burning pain in their left arms._

Severus shook his head, waving his wand to rope up everyone. Can't afford to be choosy. Assume they are all infected. Keep them apart so they can't bleed on each other until we can inoculate them.

Hermione nodded, agreeing without a word. She had her spells zinging out quickly, knocking every one of them temporarily unconscious. She didn't question him. She didn't hesitate.

She trusted him, and for the first time, perhaps, Severus realised he trusted someone to watch his back.

Imogen pecked his ear and he winced.

Well, someone _human_ , anyway.

Hermione didn't release James and Sirius until she was sure they weren't being corrupted— again.. Strangely enough, when they saw her checking every arm for the telltale signs of the Mark, they didn't complain. She released them without a word, making a complex gesture with her hands as casually as one would swat a fly. He recognised it from the drills Elph had given him and was immediately impressed. Apparently he wasn't the only one who took their studies seriously. Sometimes, he wondered if horseplay and "pranks" were the only reason certain people did magic at all if you happened to be sorted into a certain house of Hogwarts.

_We need to get these people out of here. We need a safe place to keep them as we inoculate them against the taint._ Hermione jutted her chin towards the hallway.

_There is nothing down that hall,_ Severus thought at her.

_Not yet, no_ , Hermione replied. _We need it. Badly. That should be enough._

James and Sirius looks horrified as the taint was writhing under both Alice and Frank's skin.

"What do we do?" James asked.

"How can we help?" Sirius asked.

"Were you inoculated?" Hermione asked.

Both boys nodded.

Imogen peered at both of them and hooted approval.

Hermione gave the all clear to Severus. "Let them drag Alice and Frank with us. We need to get them all somewhere out of the way."

"Alice and Frank never made it to the infirmary," James said. "They've been inoculated everyone as fast as they can. It wasn't like them to be relayed. Aurors are patrolling the halls close to the dorms, but we volunteered to try to get to them."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "How did you know they were up here."

Sirius' eyes darted. He pulled out the parchment from his breast pocket. "We had the map, and for once, it actually showed us everyone instead of just you."

" _What_?" Severus growled.

Sirius fanned his hands frantically. "I swear, it's nothing bad. It's just… ever since we did that stuff to you, the map has shown me only you. Everywhere."

They continued to drag the two Death Eaters plus Alice and Frank down the hall. Severus arched an eyebrow at them, then he seemed to decide whatever oddness was going on with the map wasn't as nearly as important as the current Death Eater situation.

The crackling of shifting stone signalled the appearance of a door, and Severus blinked in surprise.

He'd been down this hall many, many times trying to escape the Marauders and never once had there been a door.

Hermione's mind voice was no-nonsense. _It's called the Come and Go Room. You have to really need it, but you also have to have a very specific need for something and the room will provide it for you._

_Hogwarts made it?_ Severus asked.

_Hogwarts makes a lot of things as it can. Some things it won't make, if your need is selfish. Some things it can't unless the Headmaster allows it._ Hermione sounded annoyed. _It's often hard to tell when Hogwarts will be listening._

They dragged the immobilised bodies into the room as the door shut behind them. Alice was moaning, starting to succumb to the seduction of the taint. Her eyes were fluttering as her eyes rolled back into their sockets.

"Keep them apart," Severus ordered, his voice brokering no refusal. "If they wake and manage to blood themselves, the only cure is _death_."

James and Sirius paled significantly, rushing to do exactly as he asked.

Severus stroked Imogen as he felt around his pocket for the bag of pre-made inoculation shards. He pulled it out with relief and looked to Hermione. Hermione reached out her hand automatically, and he met hers with his, causing a flash of warm magic to activate the dormant shards.

He pulled out a few and passed them to Hermione and then fetched his own.

"Hold them down," Hermione said as she used her wand to slice a precise line down Alice's arm. Alice was writhing, convulsing, and foaming at the mouth, but the ropes were holding her just enough that Hermione could use her entire body to pin her down. She used her elbow to slam Alice's arm down onto the floor, firmly gripping her wrist. Alice fought hard to slug her one, and Hermione hissed, quickly moving her head out of the way. Alice's fist clipped Hermione's nose, causing it to bleed.

Hermione hissed, turning her head away so the blood would drip away from Alice. "Hold her down!"

Sirius, having tied Walden Macnair to a conveniently located pillar, lunged forward with an assist, using his entire weight to pin Alice down.

"Blood traitor! Blood traitor!" She hissed at him. "Freak! Scum of the earth!"

Sirius flinched, recognition flashing in his eyes, but he didn't let it stop him. He held her down. Hermione pushed the sliver of concentrated phoenix down into Alice's arm. She stared at her wand hand, watching it glow bright orange. She slammed her hand down on Alice's arm, crunching the flesh together with merciless precision.

Alice screamed in pain as the black taint oozed from her skin between Hermione's fingers. Hermione hissed, but did not let go. Alice bucked, her head slamming hard into Hermione, causing Hermione's nose to start bleeding profusely again. Scarlet drops of her blood dripped downward to the taint. Hermione and Severus looked panicked as the blood dripped down.

The crimson droplets splashed onto the black taint, and for a moment, it seemed like the taint knew exactly what the blood meant. It surged over the droplets, overwhelming it with the blackness. Alice screamed, her arm twitching violently. Blackness was oozing out of her arm, coating the entire length in viscous black stench.

Then, suddenly, orange fire ignited at the center of the blackness, spreading through the taint as it burned its way outward. Her entire arm was engulfed in bright flames as the blackness was consumed from within. More and more black pooled out of her arm only to be consumed by the fire. It could not go back into her, and it could not leave without being destroyed. For a moment the taint seemed to freeze in the middle as if undecided on how to survive, but the flames were clearly not in the mood to entertain. They descended upon the corruption and utterly obliterated it.

Alice panted, her heart seemingly trying to burst from her chest. Her breathing was accelerated, but the glazed over malicious drive was noticeably absent. "Frank? _**Frank, no!**_ " She cried.

Hermione held her shoulder as she looked over to Severus. He gave her a nod, pointing to Frank's now purged and clean arm.

"Frank is fine," she told Alice. "You're both going to be fine, Alice."

Alice burst into sobs, her body torn between relief, grief, and shame. "I couldn't stop it! I couldn't resist!"

Hermione shook her head. "I'm going to let you up now, okay? Try not to punch me again."

Alice blushed brightly, forgetting her tears in the moment of embarrassment. Hermione smiled, seemingly having desired that outcome from the start. Alice nodded and Sirius let her up. She rubbed her arm. "Thank Merlin," she whispered. "The madness is _gone_."

James let Frank up, and both Alice and Frank met somewhere in the middle, embracing each other tightly as they sobbed together, their relief more than palpable.

"Macnair was dragging Parkinson by the arm against his will," Alice said. "I thought that maybe he was trying to take him down to the infirmary before it was too late, but then they detoured up the stairs and down a different corridor. By the time I realised they weren't going to the infirmary, Macnair got me too."

"How long will this last?" Frank asked, rubbing his arm in a manner that suggested no amount of scrubbing was going to make him feel better anytime soon.

"For as long as you have your arm," Severus answered him. "I would endeavour to keep it."

Frank's eyes widened and he nodded. "I will. This madness— never again."

Hermione leaned over the bound Cyprian Parkinson. He had an almost pug-like nose that gave her a pretty strong hint as to where a certain Pansy Parkinson had gained that distinctive facial feature. One look at his arm, however, told her all she needed to know.

"It's not blooded," she said quickly. "Help me with him."

James and Sirius firmly held down his legs as Severus took the arms. Parkinson thrashed, hissing, spewing hatred. "Mudblood filth!"

"Yes, I'm sure we're _all_ unnaturally filthy," Sirius grunted, punching him squarely in the face. Parkinson fell back, stunned silly.

Severus, James, and Hermione just stared at him.

"Time's burning," Sirius commented matter-of-factly.

Hermione pulled out another shard as she ran her wand down Parkinson's, creating a small incision. She used magic to carefully push the shard into place. Unlike the others, he did not offer up any resistance, thanks to Sirius' well-timed punch to the face. A foul, sickening odor filled the air as an oily black fluid seeped from his arm wound. It puddled on the stone floor, bubbling and folding in on itself and then finally disappearing. His arm knit back together slowly, sealing the shard into his skin.

Parkinson's skin was pale, and his breathing was alarmingly shallow, but he was alive and untainted.

Hermione nodded to the others and sighed in relief.

"What do we do about _him_?" James said, pointing to Walden Macnair's body, which was still tightly affixed to a nearby pillar.

The Dark Mark writhed like a venomous snake under his skin, whole and black— every bit as vile and disgusting as it was dangerous.

"Is there any way to keep it from spreading any further?" Alice asked, visibly sickened by the sight.

Hermione shook her head slowly. "I do not know. It is spreading as fast as emotion, and emotion is powerful vector."

"Perhaps, if we had enough time to study it, we _might_ be able to find a way, but seeing as we haven't had much time to breathe—"

Alice nodded, looking quite distressed.

The wall started to crackle as another door formed in the stone wall. The door opened, but the space between it shimmered as though they were looking through a mirror.

"That's where we go," Severus said, watching the people moving about in the Great Hall. None of them seemed to notice the doorway. "Hogwarts wants us all together, and together we must be."

Hermione nodded and stared down at Macnair. "Let's box him up. Severus, if you can cast a stasis, I will nullify the emotional centers of the brain. Black, can you manage a strong paralysis? H— Potter, blind him and secure his tongue to the top of his mouth."

"We'll have to be careful to carry him out of here without touching him," Frank pointed out. He looked around and pulled a bubblegum wrapper. Sighing, he started to throw it over his shoulder and then stopped. He tapped his wand to it and transfigured a stretcher.

They levitated the unconscious body to the stretcher, and Alice magicked restraints in place in order to keep him from moving or falling out.

"Well, let's go," Hermione said.

Sirius and James had Parkinson supported between them, Hermione and Severus took the stretcher, and Frank and Alice led the way into the Great Hall. As they passed through the magical portal, they found themselves in the middle of the Great Hall, the doorway nowhere in sight.

* * *

House elves were rapidly coming and going, delivering the first year students in all their groggy, half-asleep, pajama-wearing splendor to the Great Hall. Teachers paced up and down the aisles, making sure all the students were kept as comfortable and as calm as possible with a plenty of sleeping bags, pillows, tea, hot chocolate, and biscuits. Poppy carefully inspected every single arm as they came in and administered the inoculation. Each student was given a dose of the specially-designed calming draught and house elves saw to it that lavender-scented diffusers enhanced with phoenix tears were placed throughout the hall. The professors added multiple protective wards to the hall as Aurors checked in and out as they patrolled. Whispers were everywhere, but the youngest students were looking to the older, and the older students were looking to their professors.

Thankfully, the professors swiftly calmed their students, and the Aurors explained the current situation as clearly as possible. Frightened whispers spread around, but many simply hugged each other and huddled together for comfort. Minerva directed the other professors as the Headmaster spoke in hushed tones to the Aurors. The Headmaster was shaking his head and stroking his beard, muttering darkly. A clearly fed-up Alastor Moody was turning an alarming shade of red and gesticulating vehemently.

" _Alright_ ," Albus said. "Alright. I agree to allow you to examine the school wards, but I do not think you will find what you seem to _think_ you'll find."

'There is no way the Founders could have built this place and not have put something in place. There _must_ be something!" Moody insisted. "We're wasting valuable time here, time we no longer have. Death Eaters are in Hogwarts. Children are being recruited or forced against their will to become corrupted fanatics via infective Dark Magic."

"Yes, Alastor, yes," Albus reluctantly conceded. "I'll take you. Come with me."

Elph watched his old friend following the aged Headmaster out of the Great Hall. His eyes narrowed slightly. He yanked Severus toward him as he walked by. "I'm going to keep an eye on Alastor's back. Keep things tight here. Assist with getting the students to the Great Hall if needed."

"Yes, master," Severus replied, nodding.

Elph disappeared out the door. Minerva, who missed nothing, said something to Hermione and then followed after him.

Imogen hooted in distress, flapping her wings, trying to get Severus to go after him.

"I can't, Imogen," Severus hissed. "He ordered me to stay and protect the students."

The owlified phoenix glared at him.

Severus gave her a pained look. "I cannot go against his orders."

Lily rushed up. "Sev, it's Katie. Can you help? She says her baby sister hasn't checked in. She can't find her. She's trying to run out and get her. I told her she has to stay here, but she doesn't care. She's frantic."

Severus' eyes flicked over the room, narrowing.

"Mopsy."

_Pop_.

"Yes, Master Snape?" A house-elf with strangely delicate ears and vivid blue eyes looked up to him.

"Could you please find Katie Berkshire's little sister for me? I believe her name is… Carrie," Severus asked. "Bring her to Madam Pomfrey straightaway so she can be reunited with her sister."

"Yes, Master Snape," the house-elf said excitedly. "Mopsy honoured to serve young apprentice of my master." The house-elf popped away.

Severus arched a brow shortly after as one Katie Berkshire let out a squeal of relief as her younger sister promptly appeared next to Madam Pomfrey. In her hands, she was hugging a book she had apparently been sneaking into the restricted section to read. The chain was still dangling from the binding.

Lily looked torn between relief and exasperation.

Well, that was one mystery solved, and, if his eyes were not mistaken, she was clean and clear of the taint. Pomfrey was carefully guiding a shard into her arm to keep her safe from further infection. The medi-witch had it in before the little witch even knew what was happening, and she happily sucked away on a strawberry sugar quill that she had been given.

Severus found he had to truly admire Madam Pomfrey. She managed to keep her cool in a school swarming with newly-minted Death Eaters.

Lily tugged on Severus' arm. "Thanks, Sev," she thanked him genuinely.

Severus furrowed his brows but nodded. "It was not a problem."

Lucius came panting in as he appeared with a gaggle of nervous first and second years he had escorted from the Slytherin dormitories. He rushed up to Professors Slughorn and Kettleburn, who were speaking together away from the students.

Slughorn nodded to Lucius and called over to Hermione.

"Apprentice McGonagall," Slughorn addressed. "If it wouldn't be too much of a bother, could you assist Lucius in getting the last of the stragglers out of the Slytherin dormitories? Lucius says the portraits are saying there are intruders moving in as he guided the last students with him."

"Of course, Professor," Hermione said with a nod. She left with him quickly and quietly.

James and Sirius came in with a pair of Aurors, helping guide the last of the Gryffindor students to the Great Hall. "That's the last of them," James said, panting. "Elves brought the rest?"

"That's it, my boy," Slughorn said, patting him on the back. "Rest now. The Aurors and Professor Sinistra will take care of the clean up."

Lucius and Hermione returned shortly after James and Sirius with a group of seventh years who had been fighting to get some first years out of Ravenclaw Tower. Slytherin dormitory, apparently, had been evacuated shortly after Lucius had taken his previous gaggle of students to the Great Hall.

Severus had to hand it to the portraits. They were extremely useful for their eyes and ears everywhere in these conditions.

Madam Pomfrey had a moment to deal with the infected and blooded Death Eaters once she took care of the student inoculations. She transfigured each of the marked students into a gobstone to make them less life-threatening, and tossed them into a large fishbowl that one of the Hufflepuff students had been carrying around for his potions honors project on poisons. The fishbowl looked like it was half full of un-ground bezoars, but Poppy didn't bother with emptying them out. Instead, she tossed all of the transfigured Death Eaters into the bowl and slapped a one-way ward and unbreakable charm on the glass.

She rubbed her eyes tiredly, half in relief and half in disgust that she even had to do such a thing. Minerva had once said in class that human transfiguration was forbidden as a method of punishment for students, but it was obvious that the professors and staff knew the spells, regardless. Severus had to admit spending your life trapped as a gobstone was not how he wanted to spend his adult years. He could only hope that once all was said and done, no innocent child tried to play Gobstones with the Death Eaters.

He could see it now: Gobstones: Death Eater Edition™. _Merlin_ , what a mental image.

Severus looked towards Hermione, who was in a rare moment of naked vulnerability. Her shoulders were slumped wearily as her expression sagged into sudden fatigue. While her magic had always been strong, she had been going almost nonstop for hours now. He must have had the same idea, because Poppy herded the witch to a seat near her and gave her a potion to replenish her reserves.

She must have said something meaningful, because Hermione's eyes became warm, and the weight of responsibility didn't seem to hang so heavily about her. Hermione's gaze met his and she smiled tiredly.

Severus felt a warmth in his chest and then flushed, turning away.

_What was that?_ He admonished himself. _Surrounded in Death Eaters and you are having warm thoughts about your fellow apprentice? Get a grip, Severus._

Imogen pecked his ear, scolding him in phoenix-ese.

_She says you're a git,_ Hermione's mind-voice chuckled, fatigue transferring through the _song_.

Severus looked up, exasperated. _How is it you know what my phoenix is saying before I do?_

Hermione laughed. _I'm female. We stick together._

_Glorious,_ he replied, rolling his eyes. It earned him a warm surge of affection from Hermione, which felt comfortable and welcoming.

Imogen chirped smugly, flapping her wings at Hermione, earning the little phoenix chick even more affection down the link of the _song_.

Severus looked up. _Wait, then why can't I understand Fawkes better?_

Hermione's mind quieted a moment. _I do not know. Ollivander says as the song bonds to our soul, we cannot help but become closer._

_He also says that in a few hundred years we'll be sprouting feathers and singing songs together,_ Severus quipped.

_I already have,_ Hermione said, winking.

_Show off._

_Mhmm_. Hermione smiled impishly at him, and he couldn't help but give a small smile back.

The professors were dimming the lights so the students could try to sleep. Flitwick had covered the entire floor with a cushioning charm to make it quite comfortable to sleep on, and thanks to the presence of the professors, many of the students were already sleeping or just drifting off. A strange sort of solidarity had finally set in. Gryffindors were snuggled up and sleeping next to Slytherins, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws alike.

Unlike the other students, both Hermione and Severus had chosen to assume more responsibility as apprentices. They took the first guard shift, allowing the other professors to snatch a bit of a catnap. Shifts switched off on the hour, which made for grogginess, but they were at least getting some sleep between them. The prefects, the Head Boy and Girl had their own duties, and every hour they did a headcount, making sure all of the students were present and accounted for out of those they _knew_ were supposed to be there.

There was a growing list of still-missing students, but thankfully none of them were from the first through third years. It was either miraculous or good timing on the house-elves rescue teams. Severus was banking on miracle, considering the contagion was spread via strong emotion. Whatever it was, he was glad of it. How do you write home to a family and explain to them their eleven-year-old son or daughter was a convicted Death Eater?

Hell, how do you write home to a family and explain to _ANY_ parent that their son and daughter was discovered to be a Death Eater?

Tobias Snape probably would think a Death Eater was some sort of freak that swallowed snakes for a living in a circus sideshow act or one of those cannibals that would show up in the papers from time to time— some insane bloke who would get caught eating his neighbor who didn't return his lawn mower or power drill in a timely matter. What the hell was _wrong_ with some people?

If anything, he would dismiss his son being found out as a Death Eater as just one more piece of incontrovertible evidence that his son was a sick freak and deserved to be beaten as often as possible, not that Tobias had ever actually _needed_ a reason to beat him. All it took was one drink and the urge to abuse just came on naturally.

Severus had dreamt that coming to Hogwarts would change his life in that regard, and, instead, he had instantly gained the enmity of the Marauders. Outstanding.

However, as Severus watched James and Sirius sitting vigil over a young batch of Gryffindors as they slept, he was starting to think that the two were starting to see things a bit differently. Hell, _he_ was thinking pretty differently too, truth be told. Thoughts of vengeance and retribution were slowly drifting away. He simply had better, more important things to think about now.

As his eyes glanced over the sleeping form of Lily, whose arm was wrapped protectively around one of the little first years who had cuddled up to her in her sleep, Severus began to think that maybe it was more than just himself, Potter, and Black who had found new priorities, thanks to the Death Eater Plague.

Imogen yawned owlishly, content to appear as a relatively nondescript little owl to any curious onlookers. Her owl form also had all of her feathers, which made Severus less concerned about her oddly naked appearance. Thanks to her very generous donation of all of her feathers, Hogwarts was, for the most part, safely inoculated. Of course, there were only a few people who actually _knew_ that they were being injected with a transfigured phoenix feather to cure them, but he knew from observing students chugging potions without even checking to be sure what it was, that most people didn't really _care_ what went into a cure as long as it worked. Ignorance truly was bliss— unless it ended up turning you into a Death Eater. Even then, some would probably argue that most Death Eaters seemed pretty happy about being one. One way or another.

Severus shuddered, forcing himself to think of something else.

A few stretchers and tied up bundles showed up in the passing hours, and Poppy added them to the growing bowl of gobstone shame.

Dawn had started to poke between the clouds of the enchanted ceiling when a warm rush of magic blew through the Great Hall. It was warm, and it was powerful. The air seemed to vibrate as the rush went through, stirring up the air like a passing zephyr. Energy like lightning crackled across the walls as colours like the aurora borealis danced in the air.

Four statues materialised at the front of the Great Hall, directly behind the High Table in fine, polished marble. Yet, when you looked at them, they seemed so very alive. Rowena Ravenclaw stood tall with a codex in her arms. Her black hair rustling as though by wind. In her hair glistened a shining diadem with a vibrant blue gem set in the center. Helga Hufflepuff stood next to Rowena, her arm out as if to toast, a golden chalice shining in her hand. Godric Gryffindor stood with his arm around Salazar Slytherin, his sword slung over his shoulder as he looked like he was whispering something to his old friend. Salazar Slytherin stared out over the room, his eyebrow lifted just so, frozen in rapt attention to what Godric was saying. Each statue's eyes glowed brightly with magic as the familiar tingle of a great ward went down, encompassing the entire school.

As the wards slammed into place, Two figures who had remained disillusioned the entire time, cried out in pain and fell to the floor as energy arched through their bodies, keeping them pinned to the floor. Zacharias Yaxley and Marcy Glorioso lay flat on their backs, helplessly staring up toward the enchanting ceiling.

The statues glowed as a song hung in the air.

_United under the enchanted sky_

_Candles lit and drifting by_

_Four friends did meet and build together_

_A school of learning to survive all weather._

_Blessed by the auspice of wise Chiron,_

_The school was built as a sanctuary won._

_They united under a common dream:_

_A school where magic was agleam._

_No child under this roof should ever fall_

_To the hand of violence, fear, or an accursed brawl._

_Four houses created under the Founders' gaze_

_United in magic and in friendships made._

_May none who live here, sister or brother,_

_Bring malicious intent and harm upon another,_

_For we must stand together with our magical might,_

_And share our wisdom, knowledge, and light._

_So fear not the taking of another's hand,_

_For without each other we cannot stand._

_Alone, we are but one of many._

_Together, we are legion steady._

_Together we stand and not alone,_

_Against ignorance we must atone._

_Gryffindors, rise up, protect, be brave!_

_Remember that in chivalry you must not cave._

_Ravenclaws, teach your knowledge accrued._

_Guide others when they become confused._

_Hufflepuffs, be both friend and loyal,_

_Teach all to be unafraid to toil._

_Slytherins, stand, lead, and guide._

_Let not blood be your only pride._

_Share your cunning, shrewdness, and guile,_

_Make not your name solely on ambition's wiles._

_Begone ignorance from between these walls._

_Begone malevolence within these halls._

_Treat each other with respect,_

_And for every action, be circumspect._

_Hogwarts, Hogwarts, stand together:_

_The brave, the wise, the industrious, and the clever._

A great surge of warmth and magic descended upon the school as ward after ward closed down upon the grounds. The magic of the leys vibrated in the air, freed to power the wards once more. And while the school had never been thought of as anything but magical, it seemed as though it were now alive, taking in a breathe after a great hibernation. The walls seemed to sing with long forgotten magic, filling in the cracks that none had realised were there. Ghosts floated in from everywhere, bowing to the statues of the Founders as they whispered to each other. House elves appeared, staring at the statues with glistening, wide eyes. They approached the statues, touching them reverently before disappearing with a _pop_.

Yet nothing was a significant as the beams of brilliant sunlight that came down from great window at the head of the Great Hall. As the sun rose behind it, it shimmered on the glass of the giant arching window, illuminating the crest of Hogwarts shimmering in the once transparent glass. Beams of light from each house's crest focused into one spot in front of the head table where the Headmaster often gave his speeches. The ghosts gathered around it, whispering.

Moaning Myrtle drifted in closer, seemingly guided by the other ghosts. The ghost of Helena Ravenclaw placed a hand on her ghostly shoulder. "This life is my penance I freely choose, but you, friend Myrtle, need not confuse— being bound in service by one's own choice versus that which was forced upon you to steal your voice. Step into the light and from us do part. Know we shall all remember you in our hearts."

Myrtle reached out and touched the radiant shaft of light with her fingertips, and an expression of total peace crossed her face. She stood up straighter. She gave Helena a look so joyous that none could see it as anything else. Then, she closed her eyes, and stepped fully into the light. There was a heavy sigh of relief, and Moaning Myrtle was gone. The other ghosts gathered around the shaft of light, their fingers touching the beams of pure light. They did not enter into it, but their expressions were all the same. All of them were at peace with where they were, knowing that if one day, should they truly wish to, they could move to the Great Beyond. The ghosts flitted away, chattering amongst themselves.

The entire Great Hall was silent in a pure amazement so powerful that the fact there were two incapacitated Death Eaters plastered to the floor seemed somehow terribly insignificant.

* * *

_**The Founders of Hogwarts Bestow Their Blessing** _

_**Death Eaters Captured and Thousands of Young Students Saved** _

_Something amazing has happened at Hogwarts, but no one seems to know how it happened! Hogwarts has always been the prime example of magical schools, but only recently has the power of the school been proven as it rose up against the spread of what has been become known as the Death Eater Plague._

_Ley-line Magicologists have described this even as the reassertion of the natural spread. What does that mean? Most of us wouldn't know, but what it boils down to is that Hogwarts has been restored to its natural state: a place of sanctuary for magical students where safety is priority number one and violence and hatred— well, over fifteen confirmed Death Eaters were rendered catatonic by the school during the power shift._

_Aurors said that it could have been much, much worse._

_Madam Pomfrey, in conjunction with St Mungo's and a team of specialists from the Ministry Alchemists, has developed a inoculation for the Death Eater contagion using the newly-unearthed healing goblet of Helga Hufflepuff. The goblet, which has appeared with four ancient artifacts of the Hogwarts' founders, was renowned for curing disease and neutralising any poisons. It has proved invaluable to the containing and spread of the plague. The goblet was created in a time when poisoning your enemy was an all-too-common practice, and Helga had created it to protect the students and staff of Hogwarts from accidental or intentional malicious poisonings and diseases._

_Three other artifacts of the Founders appeared in conjunction with the goblet: the sword of Godric Gryffindor which is said to appear times of great selfless need, the Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw, which is said to sharpen the mind and shed light on the deepest of mysteries, and the locket of Salazar Slytherin, which was said to grant the wearer the ability to speak the language of all animals— the human animal most of all._

_In the wake of this discovery, parents across the nation are writing in to the Ministry to express their wishes that Hogwarts remain preserved and restored to its former glory. The rediscovery of Hogwart's strength has only spurred the Board of Governors to allow the Ley-line Magicologists to inspect and insure that Hogwarts is restored to its most natural state._

" _Hogwarts obviously was created to protect our children and their teachers!" Ricard Parkinson said. "My son— he was almost turned into one of those monsters. If it wasn't for the quick actions of the staff Hogwarts, so many more could have been lost. It is up to us to make sure Hogwarts is allowed to do what it was created to do: protect magic and our children!"_

_Parkinson's son, who was injured during the uprisings of the Death Eaters, was given a clean bill of health. He expressed his gratitude to those that saved him, stating that he wasn't the only one. Many fellow students were just as lucky as him._

_The majority of the infected were cured via inoculations before the contagion could take root and permanently corrupt their minds and bodies._

_Students have been released a few days early to their families. In the meantime, the staff of Hogwarts is staying behind at Hogwarts to welcome in the specialists to research and insure that Hogwarts is ready to welcome in the students for the upcoming term._

_The Ministry is sending out teams to inoculate private residences for those who are unable to make it to the free injection hours at St Mungo's. Many families have been lining up rather than waiting for the private visits, eager to insure they and their families are protected from what has been described as the second coming of the Black Plague._

_People are encouraged to send owls to the Office of Magical Disease Control and the Ministry if they are unable to make it to St Mungo's and are in a high risk situation. High risk includes highly emotional careers, families with children, and people who have a history of catching seasonal colds easily._

* * *

"Hey, Lils," Sirius greeted, sitting down across from her in the train car.

"Hey, Black," Lily said with a wan smile.

"Mind if we join you?" James asked, elbowing Remus in the ribs.

"Just don't wake up little Tina, eh?" She gestured to the little girl that had a Slytherin scarf wrapped around her neck even in the heat. The scarf was obviously well loved.

"It's okay," the little girl stirred, rubbing her eyes. "I should go check on Peter and Stephan." She yawned, her eyes somewhat glassy. "Thank you for watching over me, sissy."

Lily's gaze softened. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

The girl nodded. "I will. I'll owl you when I get home ok? You'll write me too, yes?"

"Of course," Lily answered.

Tina beamed at her. "Mum and dad are taking my brothers and I to the beach this summer. I'll send you a shell."

"I'd love that," Lily replied with a smile.

Tina shuffled out of the car and out, moving her way back to the traditionally Slytherin cars.

Lily stared at Sirius, who seemed strangely uncomfortable.

"What?"

Sirius ruffled his hair. "It's— it's taking me some time to get used to the change, aye?" He looked out the train window to watch the scenery go past. "I spent my life hating everything Slytherin, thinking that the entire house was full of bigots like my family. All of them so proud of their blood. And now, now I find out that Founders never intended any of us to be adversaries. They wanted us to teach each other. They wanted us to live together, and somehow, throughout the years, Hogwarts was prevented from being Hogwarts. Friends became enemies, and peace became hatred, and I want to know _how_."

Lily shook her head. "Maybe it's not about how. We are all human. We all make mistakes. Somewhere along that line, we stopped forgiving. We stopped listening. We stopped—" Lily paused, wincing. "We stopped remembering that everything is connected and that a Slytherin child is the same as any other. We all have potential to be wonderful or terrible." Lily looked out the window. "Maybe we all forgot that each of us have the power to be kind or cruel, and sometimes— sometimes in turning a blind eye to something is just as horrible as doing something that supports the action we don't like."

"Lil—"

Lily held her hand up. "No, I have had time to think of this. I watched you torture my friend. My _childhood_ friend. For five years I just let it slide because I thought if I said anything it would justify his anger towards my house. I was a so hung up on house points and being the good student for myself that didn't stand up for him. I never once did anything but tell him to make better friends. Turns out, his friends didn't start out so bad. They were corrupted by something evil, and I would never have known. I would have blamed him for making horrible friend choices. Maybe… Maybe if I had paid more attention and gotten to know them, I could have realised something was wrong or that his friends were becoming something unnatural, but I didn't. And do you know what? I found out about what a kind bookworm Mulciber was before he was tainted. He was a kind, shy boy who loved to read and was fascinated by potions. Do you know how I found out? I listened to Lucius Malfoy speak out to the Aurors when they came asking about the Death Eaters. I ended up meeting the gaze of his parents as they cried over their beloved little boy's fate. These were normal people. They were friends to someone, and I let myself believe that all Slytherin were bad or Dark wizards in the making. I let myself believe that because my best friend was in Slytherin that he was somehow tainted and corrupted. And what if he _had_ been? I may never have known it wasn't his choice. I would have just assumed it was the case. I used to say my sister was a blind, jealous, bigot and maybe she is, but I could have been her so easily. It took this to wake me up. It took my friends almost _dying_. It took such terrible fear as little children from all the houses hugged me tight as they went to sleep before I realised what mattered. _Everyone_ matters."

A shadow went by the door, and Lily stood up. She opened the door and gestured. "Come in. I bought too much off the cart for Tina and I have extras. Will you join us?"

James and Sirius' eyes bugged out of their skulls as the crown prince of Slytherin stepped into the compartment.

"Miss Evans," Lucius greeted with a boy of his head. "Thank you for your kind words earlier. Mulciber's parents— they genuinely appreciated it."

Lily nodded. "I did not know him personally, but that night I saw you go time after time to escort the first years to the Great Hall. I heard the children speak of you and what you did to protect them. I'm sorry I couldn't have done more."

Lucius tilted his head and sat down on the seat, making room for Regulus, who was right behind him.

"Did I hear someone mention food?"

Lily grinned, passing him the basket of leftover candy.

"Last year for you, wasn't it, Malfoy?" James asked.

Lucius nodded. "Senior year is rarely dull."

Sirius flushed, seemingly chewing on something really hard in his mind. "I'm sorry. I never thanked you for saving our lives. I was too proud and too hateful of everything I thought you were. And you, baby brother. I miss the times when you and I used to talk and dream together. I haven't treated you right since you were Sorted, and it seems I haven't realised what Gryffindor really was all along."

" _Gryffindor rise up, protect, be brave! Remember that in chivalry you must not cave,"_ Regulus quoted.

"Seems I haven't been very chivalrous, have I, brother?" Sirius said grimly. Suddenly he seemed to realise something. "Merlin, Regulus! You can't go home! If mother finds out that you—"

Lucius raised his hand. "Taken care of. Now that my father is no longer in the picture, mum has finally felt safe enough to display her true beliefs. Regulus will be able to stay with us until he graduates."

Sirius let out his breath slowly. "I'm glad."

James put a hand on Sirius' shoulder. "My parents have agreed to take in this git too, so it will be safer for both of you now."

Regulus smiled slightly. "I am glad of it."

"Where's that other bloke you usually hang out with?" Regulus asked.

Sirius and James exchanged glances.

Regulus ruffled his hair. "Messy hair. Looks like he's been run over by a thestral every day?"

"Oh! Remus," James and Sirius huffed together. "The bloody git charmed himself up an apprenticeship with the new professor for Care of Magical Creatures. He's with Sn— Severus and that new witch, McGonagall's daughter, helping the school iron out the mess caused by the Death Eaters.

Lucius arched a blond brow. "I think that you should be more careful what names you say," he said dryly. "Now, especially. Hermione McGonagall has done nothing but bring honour to her family name. She would make a far better ally than an enemy, and Severus— he has always been a most gifted and passionate Potioneer."

James closed his eyes. "I didn't mean to say it like I don't respect her, Lucius." He frowned. "It's hard, this adjusting, but I swear I am trying to."

"Peace, Lucius," Regulus interjected. "I know Professor McGonagall has tried to bring in a manners class since long before now. The kind of thing we Slytherins get from the moment we arrive in the Common Room for the first time. It's been shot down every single time. Rhys, my friend in Ravenclaw, says all the other professors support her, but every time she brings the subject up, it's shut down again."

Lucius seemed to be counting to ten. "I apologise. I take offence easily these days."

James shook his head. "We are all learning anew. At least now we know the way things the Founders truly wanted us to be. All these years of antagonism and blame, oh, and I embraced it all. Like a bloody _fool_."

Regulus tapped the window with his fingers. "You know, I heard one of the Aurors arguing with the Headmaster. At first, I didn't really think anything of it. The Headmaster has always been one to insist the school is the safest place to be, but he was actually dismissing the need to check the school's wards."

"He's the headmaster, brother," Sirius said. "He'd know, wouldn't he? That's his job."

"Well, if that is true," Regulus speculated. "Why refuse to allow the Aurors to check on them? Surely there would be no harm in making sure they're up to snuff? Student safety and all that."

James rubbed his chin, stroking his stubble. "You know, I always thought our map was probably too weak to keep track Dumbledore, but, what if the reason he falls off the map is because he's gone somewhere we don't know about. Someplace we never mapped or rather couldn't map."

"Hogwarts is completely unplottable," Lucius said.

"Not… completely," Sirius said. He pulled out the parchment from his breast pocket. "It doesn't work here, so I can't show you, but we had a way to track people's positions in Hogwarts. We used to sneak to Hogsmeade and avoid Filch. Dumbledore would show up on it, but then vanish."

Lily eyed the map suspiciously. " _That's_ how you stalked Sev."

Sirius flushed and sighed. "Yes. We did."

Lily clenched her teeth and turned away.

Sirius winced. "Lily, I'm sorry. We're both sorry."

Lily sighed. "Can we start over? All of us? Let's just try and treat each other like human beings. Starting now. Let's get together over the summer. Maybe we could just hang out and do things like normal people do."

"Normal people with murderous families?" Sirius asked.

Lily smiled weakly. "Your family can have my sister, Petunia."

* * *

**A/N:** Brainssss…. Also, Happy Easter, everyone!


	6. Insaitiable Lust For Power

**A/N:** Did you miss this story? :)

**Beta Love:** The Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01

* * *

 

**Time for a Change**

**Chapter 6**

**Fatal Flaws: An Insatiable Lust For Power**

_Power attracts the corruptible. Suspect any who seek it._

_~ Frank Herbert, Chapterhouse: Dune_

* * *

"This place is _huge_ ," Regulus said as he looked around.

"Far more rooms than we ever use," Lucius replied. "Even with Father entertaining large functions, the rooms are never full."

Regulus pulled a potion out from his pocket and took a sip before putting it back in with a sigh.

"Still getting the tremors?"

Regulus nodded. "Better than being a Death Eater." He rubbed the place on his arm where the more "permanent" solution had been embedded into his arm thanks to Hermione and Severus' work and the donation of a plucky little phoenix chick. "Maybe you do know how this feels, but I'm glad that I won't be at risk for that corruption again."

Lucius touched the place on his arm where one of the phoenix downs was placed in under his skin. "I do, Regulus. And mother does too, which is why you are more free for you to stay here even with your pureblood history." Lucius frowned and then shook his head. "It's nice to have some like-minded company within these walls. Mother was never one to say much when father was around, and when he came down with dragon pox it was more like a relief. Being a Marked Death Eater though—that pretty much sealed his fate. Before they realised the Mark was contagious, it had spread to most of the people in Azkaban. Those that fought it were killed to blood to faithful. We'd thought he was just mad. Completely and utterly mad But now we all know what was really going on. Too late for my father," Lucius mused. "He was long gone before this. Strange that it never transferred to us. Or to mother. That makes me wonder if this contagion was a recent development."

"I do think it was fairly recent," Regulus said. "Otherwise my most glorious parents would have contracted it with all the social elbow rubbing they do. While they support the Dark Lord's opinions, shall we say, they do not have the Mark."

Lucius rubbed his chin with his fingers, his pads brushing the fine haze of pale whiskers that were normally immaculately shaved away, had it been anyone but his mother and apparently Regulus.

"I should thank you for—"

Lucius held up a hand. "Nay, Regulus. You owe me no favour. I am, as I said, glad of the company in these halls, and I think my mother is glad to hear voices that are not my father filling in the eerie silence."

"We should probably talk of more appealing things," Regulus mused.

Lucius' mouth twitched. "Apprentice McGonagall and Severus will be visiting this evening. I believe that Kreacher has smuggled out your things in those trunks there." Lucius pointed to about ten miniature trunks sitting on the dresser.

"He was always dutiful to me," Regulus said with a smile.

"Ah, there you are," a pale woman with strawberry-blonde hair said as she came in with a tray with glasses and lemonade. "I brought you something to drink and some biscuits. It felt good to be actually cooking again."

"Mother, you haven't cooked in—"

"They aren't toxic, my son," she said, scowling. "Just because your father believed it was unseemly to have flour over one's clothes unless you were a house-elf, doesn't mean I've forgotten my roots."

Regulus bowed slightly. "Thank you, Lady Malfoy," he said with a charming smile. "My mother used to cook all the time. It was one of the few things she wouldn't let the house elves do because she claimed they had no sense of taste unless it was wine."

Lady Malfoy laughed. "She may be right, young Regulus. Please, here, amongst the stone and out of public, call me Ambrosia."

Regulus bowed his head. "Thank you, Ambrosia."

The two young wizards drank the lemonade with enthusiasm, happily sharing the biscuits with smiles safely behind closed doors.

"Thank you for allowing me to stay with you, Ambrosia," Regulus said with a smile.

"We are glad to have you, Regulus,' Ambrosia said kindly as she exited the room, carrying the tray with with her.

* * *

Imogen swung on her bird-swing, chirping a happy song in between grapes and gooseberries.

Fawkes shook his head, happily snuggled up to Hermione's shoulder and neck, skillfully peeling a banana with his beak and eating it without getting anything on his bondmate. As Hermione turned her head, he stuffed a piece into her mouth with a chirp.

"Mfph," she said, chewing. "Thanks."

Severus made similar mumbles as he made the mistake of turning towards Imogen and getting a mouth full of gooseberry.

Hermione smiled as he sat down beside her.

The bond between they and their feathered phoenix friends had only strengthened during the summer of intensely working with Urquart and McGonagall. The both of them had come intimately bound to the weave of the Unspeakables and each other due to the intensive work that required them to work together even when "working alone."

Their accomplishments under fire with the containment and purging of the Dark Mark Plague, as it had come to be known had opened many doors to opportunities within the Unspeakables to take on extra learning opportunities and advanced spell creation and breakdown—something that appealed to Severus greatly and had Hermione buried in books as high as her neck (with Fawkes perched on top looking smug).

Imogen loved singing to Hermione and accepting cuddles. At first, Severus was a bit insecure about it until he felt through the bond between the phoenixes the most powerful pull of kinship between the birds. The attraction he had for Hermione—that he struggled with more than anything that involved his studies.

Hermione McGonagall was so many things he could barely fathom.

Whisperwings. Aura. She-Who-Burns-Brightly as the phoenixes called her.

Phoenix names were long—as long as the time they lived, died, and were reborn. Each time they were reborn, they added to that name, weaving it into the musical chord of their true name.

Fawkes liked to boast to his father that Hermione came with a name already woven into many times. Her soul was already old. Ollivander, of course, took such things with a smug expression. He'd had many chicks and lived many lives. He'd had many names—and his name was an entire _song_. Fawkes' name was but a strain. Imogen's was a note. In comparison, Hermione's was a series of chords, and his—his was a strange harmony woven into the symphony.

They had become part of a greater whole.

It was almost more than he could fathom, such closeness—such intimacy. There it was, forgiving his self doubt, his burning hatred for his father, and his once desperate want of power to prove he was better.

He had always wanted to be better than his drunkard of a father, and deep down he had always wanted to be better than his weak-willed, beaten mother, or so he had thought. Now, he understood the depths of her pain due to a widened perspective. Now, he understood it was love of him and not Tobias that kept her with the man he knew only as the drunken bastard, and he highly suspected she had purposely made home life seem even less welcoming just so he would stay at Hogwarts for the holidays.

Anything to keep him out of harm's way if but for a little bit longer.

And because he'd never told her about the Marauder's torturing him—she'd never known otherwise.

Thanks to the time streams, he could see glimpses of possibility in regards to his mother and even—though he loathed to admit it—his father. There were times where his father had been killed by young wizards being drunk and stupid. There were times where his father had been a decent enough person—the kind of man he could see how his mother fell in love with him. There were some where his mother had been the drunken alcoholic and his father the man who loved her far too much to raise a hand to her… even when she raised a hand to her own son. Sometimes, both of them were dead—

Never, in all the variations, had it ended well with both parents being able to love each other and raise their child together. Something always happened. And Severus had seen glimpses of himself as evil and horrible as the Dark Lord himself—if not _worse_ —a man who had hardened his heart to all things. He'd seen himself the victim of one too many pranks, one of which had been a fatal attack by a werewolf. And then—

Then, he had seen Hermione McGonagall's Severus—a broken young man attempting to atone for past sins—who had loved her more than anything in the world only to be forced by the man who held the yoke around his neck into murdering her.

But she had loved him to the end, even knowing what he had been bidden to do, and he, the man who had ever right to distrust everyone, had given her his family ring and it it had stayed with her.

Throughout time.

Throughout space.

That Severus had lived, if only in spite. He lived to see the end of the man who used him as a tool. Every day, he set out an extra plate, an extra tea cup. There wasn't a day that went by he didn't talk to her phantom as if she was there. And the day Dumbledore had died—Severus had fallen to his knees and wept in his bittersweet freedom.

That Severus had spent the rest of his life fixing all the things Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore had buggered up. He'd bought a saw-whet owl that had reminded him so much of his love's Animagus form and named her Hermione—treating her like the woman he had known for but a blink of time in a lifetime.

It was easy to see why that time's Severus held her in such regard.

She was—even here in front of him—someone with the kind of compassion that could forgive the sins he hadn't even made yet. Perhaps, he thought, she was always meant to be a phoenix. She already had the perspective of one long before Fawkes had bonded to her. She would blaze brightly only to turn to ash and be reborn from it.

"You're staring into the time streams again," Hermione's voice said. It was soft, casual, as if mentioning the snowfall in Hogsmeade.

Severus looked up. "How do you—"

Hermione chuckled. "You get that contemplating look on your face," she said. "Your brow wrinkles just a little here." She pointed to the spot on herself."

Severus slumped as Imogen peeped a chuckle. She had regrown her down enough to look fluffy and "respectable" again. At least, that is what Severus believed.

Imogen was perfectly happy being in the buff as long as it made Fawkes and Garrick uncomfortable—like a typical kid who liked to test the boundaries.

Hermione took the little phoenix's antics in stride, perhaps better than the elder phoenixes. Imogen would cuddle up under Hermione's mane of feathered hair, singing happy warbles before nestling in under Severus' hair, just between his skin and his collar, using his robe-collar as a nest.

It was peaceful, calming, and something precious in a life that had been anything but.

Minerva drifted in like the feline ghost she was, making not even a sound despite her robes. Severus considered she might be barefoot under her robes—how else could she be so silent? "How are you doing with your Occlumency?" she asked as if she were discussing the condition of the giant squid.

Severus swallowed hard. Occlumency was complicated. The key was actually believing the lie in your own mind—shoving the truth into the realm of fantasy and making the lie the truth. It was like having a split personality, putting forward an entirely different person.

It was a lie that that, for a moment, you even believed.

They had an advantage over others, though. They were practicing on each other, and with a phoenix bond, it was nigh impossible to hide anything. Almost… but when they finally did, they knew they were onto something. It was, however, very uncomfortable—cutting one's self off from the "family" bond was almost painful. It stretched into the far reaches of time, now, connecting him to all of his other possibilities. While all the times were now cemented, sealing him with the one reality that bonded him to Imogen, the one thing that would never change would be that Imogen had chosen him.

It seems to utterly silly to be jealous of Hermione's relationship with Imogen when she was obviously a beacon of compassion to all those she cared about. He knew, in his heart, that Hermione was a creature who both hungered for kindness as much as she gave it. It was fitting, as phoenix families had love and kindness to spare.

She—no they—would never be alone again.

Yet, even with this comfort, he felt like there was something tugging on him to fill the gaping void she hid under her smiles and her warmth.

The void caused by the loss of the older and more embittered Severus Snape who had loved her. In fact, the more he thought of it, the more he realised that the phoenixes were doing their best to mend her heart with their attentive fussiness, and for once it wasn't him that needed the deep emotional mending of having lost someone in the most traumatic of ways— with no closure at all.

Severus had a feeling that he could never be that person she remembered because she had already healed a part of him— she and the phoenixes—that had forged that embittered man she remembered. Yet—

Surely, she knew through the phoenix-bond, that what he was now was a better thing.

Imogen pecked him on the ear, peeping admonishment.

He had to concentrate to hear her voice through the peeping. Even bound to her, it was hard. Phoenixes communicated through colour and light— feeling and emotion. It all formed into words, but if he wasn't in the perfect mindset, it became exceedingly difficult. He wasn't accustomed to trusting— throwing your entire soul into conversation to be understood. A phoenix held back nothing— at least when communicating to their own or their chosen.

Something, he realised, Albus Dumbledore never knew, even after being around Fawkes for years— more years than he'd been alive.

"She thinks of him, living alone. Dying alone," Imogen said sharply, forming her colour and light-words into a beacon of truth. "Even knowing you are better off, she grieves for him."

Imogen regarded him with black eyes, her head crest rising accusatorily at him, cutting through his self-doubt to expose the truth of the matter.

It wasn't about him not deserving happiness. It was about that time line she had originated from— that place that had been her anchor for so many years. Who was he to judge, having never been ripped from the arms of the one who had cherished her like the only thing that mattered?" Had he suffered the things he knew that other Severus Snape had, how would he have reacted to having had to murder her to keep his own life?

And that Severus— he had loved Lily so blindly that most of his life had been in penance for a word said in fear and anger. It had taken years upon years for Hermione to even think he could truly care for her. Then, when she finally knew what she wanted, more time to get him to even admit to his feelings. Once they both had what they wanted, it was all taken away.

"She believes you are still tied to Lily," Imogen said, her beak clacking as she tugged on his collar. "Think of all those timestreams where that was the only truth for you."

Severus frowned. Imogen, of course, was right. There _were_ far more instances where Severus Snape went unknown and unloved far more than where he had found it. That beacon that was Hermione's love hadn't even been a consideration for many of his alternate selves.

There were far more times when Severus Snape died unappreciated with not even one friend to call his own— yet Hermione…

Hermione had loved him, tying herself to the family of the Prince lineage, to Snape— to _him_. And now, now that he could see the stretch of Time's tendrils, he realised it was more than just one Severus Snape that longed for her, even when they didn't know who it was they needed. To some, they thought it was Lily— died thinking it was Lily— never knowing that it was never Lily they truly wanted. No, needed. How could they? It was almost as if Fate wanted to make them doubt themselves just to test how badly they wanted what they should have had all along.

Yet, there was always that chance they wouldn't appreciate what they had unless they had survived adversity.

"Who does?" Imogen replied to his unspoken question. "Everyone has to lose something to respect what they haven't lost in some way."

"It's really hard to think of you as a chick when you keep spouting words of wisdom," Severus said to the phoenix chick.

"Pfft," Imogen replied in a singsong tone. "I'm older than you are."

"Creepy forever child," Severus snorted. "So much better."

"Don't make me sit on your upper lip when you sleep and suffocate you," Imogen quipped.

Severus eyed the little bird, knowing she was teasing, but still a little discomfited by how her appearance did not _quite_ match the breadth of her intelligence and wit.

Hermione stood, looking like she was going to move towards the lake, and Imogen peeped as though she was being tortured. The witch eyed the little lintball somewhat suspiciously. "Hrm?" she asked. "I know you can ask like a normal phoenix. What has your tailfeathers on fire?"

Hermione didn't even say anything more as she scooped Imogen up and snuggled her, rubbing her nose to Imogen's beak. She kissed her beak and smiled. "You need to stop cheating and using me as a translator, love," she said with a warm smile.

Imogen sang prettily, buttering her up.

Hermione sighed and stuffed a grape into the hungry phoenix's gaping maw of endless hunger and gently placed her back on Severus' hand so she could climb back up to his shoulder and rearrange his hair to her liking.

"What did she say?" Severus asked, curious.

Hermione closed her eyes, shaking her head. Her smile held sorrow like a cup, tugging on the edges of her mouth and dragging them down before she vanished it away. "Congratulations," Hermione replied, a slight smile on her face.

She turned and left to go towards the lake, leaving Severus to boggle over what she meant or what could bring her such sadness in the Song. Imogen chirred sadly in protest, but Hermione had already gone out of earshot— and the shape of her phoenix-owl form flew wingtip to wingtip with Fawkes as they chased the thermals together over the lake.

"Sev! There you are!" Lily called out as she rushed down the path from Hogwarts. "Did you hear the news? There's going to be a Autumn Ball!"

Severus jolted a bit. "Hn?"

"Dumbledore said it would be a bit of a mix-up event. Witches get to ask Wizards to the ball! Isn't that _great?_ " she chattered excitedly.

Severus frowned. "I suppose, if dances are all that appealing to you."

"Guess who _I'm_ inviting?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "I don't think Lucius will take it well."

" _Sev!"_ Lily huffed. "I want to go to the dance with _you!_ " She crossed her arms across her chest and scowled at him.

Severus blinked. Imogen made a strange little squawk, having changed into a oddly fluffy Scops owl. "You… what?"

Lily gave him a playful push. "Come on, Sev! Whaddaya say? Be my date for the Autumn Ball!"

Severus gave a pained look, his conflict clearly written on his face. "You _can't_ be serious. We've never even been on a date."

Lily huffed. "Come with me this weekend to Hogsmeade."

Severus' face wrinkled in confusion.

"Let's make it real."

" _Congratulations,"_ Hermione had said.

"Do you really—"

Severus' protest was cut off by Lily snogging his disbelief away.

* * *

Fawkes warbled and snuggled into Hermione's neck as she completed her assignment. She stood up straight, tightened her jaw, and sent about twenty beams of magic out in seemingly-random directions, and twenty hidden targets materialized and clattered to the floor in flames.

_Zing!_

" _ **PROTEGO!"**_ Hermione screamed— but it sounded like a phoenix scream mixed with a chaser of annoyed owl.

A beam bounced off her shielding charm and then zinged back to knock another hidden target straight to the face.

There was a hushed scuffle of foot against floor and a muffled curse.

And Hermione was a blur of crimson and orange-brown feathers as she shifted instantly. She slammed into the hidden shape— blurred by a Disillusionment, transforming back into a human witch as her hand— twisted into half-talons of owl and phoenix— clenched into the "throat" of the hidden figure.

Hermione's magic roared, her eyes blazing, every hair and feather on her body standing on end as her body reacted to instinct and survival— survival that the Severus Tobias Snape of her time had drilled into her until anything and everything was a threat— even him, until he proved otherwise.

She kicked up a bench with her leg and used magic to pin her invisible attacker to the wall, slamming her hand to the bench to fuse it to the wall completely. Her lips pulled back to expose her teeth in a grimace that seemed like a snarl. " _Revelio!"_ she hissed.

Severus' wide eyes stared into her, his face much paler than usual.

Hermione stared for a tick, and then the wrinkles on her nose relaxed as sanity came back to her. "Severus? What are you doing here?" She released the death choke she had on his neck as her talons receded and the wings faded from her back.

"I came to check on you," he said carefully. "Master McGonagall said you were studying—"

"Studying martial magic versus unforgivables," Hermione said, frowning.

"I'm sorry, by the time I realised you were really— into the simulation, my foot scuffed and," he stammered.

"You could have been badly hurt," Hermione said with concern. "I—" Hermione let out a deep sigh. "I very easily find myself back in a place where everything and everyone was against me. It is survival, but it is instinctive blind reaction to any and all potential threats."

"You wouldn't have hurt me," Severus said.

"You have _**no**_ idea what I could have done," Hermione said, her eyes hardening.

Severus frowned as she jerked her hand upward and then down sharply, and he sprawled on the floor with a startled _oof_ , pulling himself up with a grimace as he rubbed his aching shoulder.

Hermione rushed up quickly, her brows furrowed. "You _**are**_ hurt!"

"No."

She narrowed her eyes. "Let me see."

"It's nothing."

"Severus, let me see!"

Severus flinched as he lowered his hand and nodded. Hermione slid her hand and exposed the skin of his shoulder where he had been rubbing and saw the accelerated bruise that was spreading under his skin. She slid her hand under the gap in his robes as a golden fire spread between her fingers. She sang an incantation and the bruise started to retreat.

"It tingles," Severus said softly.

Hermione said nothing other than repeating the song over and over.

Severus felt a radiant warmth coming from the ring around his neck. Then the ring began to glow.

Hermione saw the ring on her hand glow in resonance and she winced, hissing, " _Celare."_ The ring on her hand seemed to struggle against her will, but then her face hardened as all the emotion on her face vanished under a strong wall of Occlumency. The ring abruptly "vanished" from sight.

"Sev!" Lily's voice came from the doorway. "We're getting together to study. Are you coming?" Her face wrinkled. "What were you doing?"

Hermione turned, her expression set like stone. "I was performing my drills.

"With your hand on his _chest_?" Lily asked, frowning. Her voice cracked a little.

Hermione's eyes held no fire, no emotion. "He was hurt. I mended it."

"That—" Lily faltered. "That's it?"

Hermione lifted her head a mere few centimeters at the most. "Yes."

"How am I supposed to believe that?" Lily stammered. "After what I saw?"

Hermione summoned her outer robes to her hand and drew them over herself with a practiced motion. She stood taller, her movements seeming so very precise. "Severus is perhaps the most trustworthy man I know. Do you really think he would be sniffing around like a dog up a witches robes like some of these _other_ hormonal specimens of the male gender? If he had any interest in me in such a way, Miss Evans, he would not do it under the cloak of being in a relationship with you."

Severus' eyes widened slightly, caught between Lily's possessiveness and Hermione's sudden and complete professionalism— all traces of that soft concern and the emotional worry for his safety gone. Her Occlumency had come so swiftly, even after their practice together, that it took even him off-guard. Had he not known she was capable of great warmth and compassion, he would have thought her completely unemotional.

She looked very much the dedicated apprentice— the teacher— the war veteran. He saw the Hermione in his mind's eye: blood-shamed, ridiculed, used, and—

_I see no difference._

_Why must you be such an insufferable know-it-all?_

He had been the absolute worst of them all.

_Really, Miss Granger, have you nothing better to do than to give your supposed friends the answers to questions they are too lazy to find themselves?_

_Five points from Gryffindor for your cheek._

_Apparently your book knowledge gives you no advantages in looking where you are going, Miss Granger. Five points from Gryffindor, and you will have detention with me tonight, scrubbing cauldrons without magic._

Hermione brushed silently by him as Fawkes landed gently on her shoulder, having already concealed himself into his owl-form the moment the exercise was complete. "Enjoy your study session at Madam Puddifoot's," Hermione said coolly as she turned and left down the hall. "I will inform Master Urquhart so that he does not worry." With that, she was gone.

Lily's face was flushed pink. "How did she—"

"You're a _horrible_ liar, Lily," Severus said quietly, his expression torn between so many emotions that even he wasn't sure what he was feeling.

Lily rushed up and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Let's go, Sev. We don't want to be late." She rolled up onto her tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss. She took his hand and led him out of the room as the door closed behind them, locking with an audible click.

* * *

" _Are you sure?"_

" _I've never been more sure," Hermione said, touching Severus' cheek with a tender brush of her palm._

" _I am a horrible man, with an even more horrible past."_

_Hermione smiled sadly, her eyes wet with unshed tears. "It's you I want, Severus. No one else. No other perfect being you seem to think I deserve. What I want is you. What I deserve is you. Someone who understands all too well what— evil a person can do for what they think is all the right reasons. Someone who knows what regret really means and values forgiveness like the treasure it is."_

" _You are a fool."_

" _Your fool, if you will have me."_

_Severus let out a ragged breath. "How could I not? You, who can possibly care for a wretched creature as myself? I do not deserve you."_

" _As I've said before," Hermione replied. "Perhaps, I am exactly what you deserve."_

" _Forgive me," Severus breathed against her cheek. "There are times I— I think of what could have been."_

_Hermione looked into his face sadly. "I cannot compete with the dead, Severus, but I can give you a future with me. There are times I wish I could hold your heart and be the only one it ever wanted, but that is a ideal dream of a child raised on fairy tales. You would not be you without the experiences you've had to make you who you are. And there isn't a day that goes by I wish I had never had crush on Ronald Weasley."_

_Severus grimaced. "He was never— fit for you."_

" _The heart wants what the heart wants, Severus," Hermione said, "until it realises through hard knocks that what it wanted was really, really stupid."_

" _Six to twelve red-headed spawn?"_

_Hermione flinched. "Can you forgive me for that couple of years?"_

" _I suppose I can chalk it up to hormone-induced insanity," Severus said, deadpan._

" _Severus!" Hermione huffed, pushing him off her and crossing her arms._

_A sliver of a smile tugged on the corners of his face._

_He shimmied over to her. She turned away, pouting._

" _Such a Gryffindor," he rumbled, pressing his face into her neckline._

" _Stop that, I'm trying to be mad at you."_

" _How's that working for you?" he asked._

" _Terribly."_

" _Hn," he replied, deliberately nibbling on her neck._

_Hermione's energy flared, and she squeaked._

" _What's that?" Severus asked against her skin._

" _Nnnnggh. I— hate— you."_

_Severus smiled. "I don't think that means what you think it means."_

" _Keep doing that," Hermione hissed._

" _Hrm? This?" he placed a trail of kisses down her neck._

" _Nnnggah!" Hermione thumped Severus down on the bed on his back and gave him a searing kiss. She placed her palms on each side of his face and pressed a kiss to his lips. "That smile. Keep doing that."_

_Severus' lined face relaxed. "With you at my side, I will— attempt to."_

_Hermione's smile was warm and bright. "Now that I am no longer your apprentice, how long are you going to make me wait for my just rewards for putting up with your unholy snark and grumpiness?"_

_Severus raised a brow. "My understanding was that you believed such things one of my finer features."_

_Hermione placed a kiss upon his nose. "Always good to expand your talents, hrm?"_

_Severus scowled at her, but there was no heat in his gaze. "I suppose."_

_Hermione snuggled into him, tucking herself under his chin and eerily finding her way through his "protective" high collar to snuffle his neck._

_He stiffened in surprise, a gasp coming from his throat as his arms went around her, holding her tightly. "I love you."_

_Hermione smiled into his neck, half buried in his now-silken hair— something she fussed over and insisted on "helping" him with in the shower. "Was that so hard, Severus?" she mused._

_Severus held her head against himself, his hand clawed into massive curls. "Yes."_

_She smiled and pulled away slightly in order to hover her mouth over his. "Practice makes perfect, my love."_

_He stared at her in wonder as he worshipped her from head to toe until there was no doubt at all her mind just how much love he had for her harboured behind years of self control and perfect propriety._

* * *

"Oh my _GOD_ , Sev, she's so strict!" Lily complained. "I missed just a little thing in Transfiguration class, and she told her mother I failed the test!"

Severus frowned. "You turned the cup into a venomous snake instead of a garter snake," he said. "That's not—"

"It was still a _SNAKE!_ " Lily complained.

"And if Apprentice McGonagall hadn't vanished it as fast as she did, it could have bitten you or McKinnon on the face and your skin would be rotting off along with your nose and upper lip or whatever else it envenomated!"

Lily crossed her arms. "Whose side are you on, Sev? A little sympathy would be nice."

Severus frowned as Imogen let out a chain of harsh notes that sounded like nails on a chalkboard. He used his hand to shush the phoenix chick, tucking her back into his hair. The phoenix-owlet muttered things in phoenix-ese that were not spoken with the normal warmth she usually projected.

"Do you not think that I should be concerned about your safety, Lily?" Severus said. "Maybe I don't want my girlfriend to miss the dance she invited me to because she'd end up in the infirmary on a course of antivenin?"

"She didn't _have_ to tell McGonagall," Lily muttered.

Severus blew an annoyed huff of air from his nose. "It's her _duty_ to be Professor McGonagall's eyes and ears as her apprentice. That's her job. And what if she didn't tell her, let you off, and you ended up killing someone with a venomous snake when you tried to practice, hrm?"

Lily paled and set her jaw. "Wouldn't be so bad if she actually _helped_ us."

Severus sighed. " _I_ help you because you're my friend, Lily. We grew up together.

"She thinks she's better than us," Lily snapped, her face wrinkling with distaste.

"Not sure if you've been paying attention, Lil," James said as he sat down with Sirius, "but she _IS_ better than us. If being a McGonagall alone wasn't proof enough of that."

"I thought you said blood didn't matter," Lily demanded, her voice starting to creep into the higher octaves.

"There is blood, Lil," Sirius said, "and then there is _power_. Magical affinity. Purebloods like to think that it's because of the blood that magic is strong, but it's far more random than that. I mean, you put two magicals together, yeah their kids are probably going to be magical, but that doesn't mean they are going to be god's gift to Merlin. Look at the Trelawney family. The family is full of seers going back to the time of— well. hell I don't even _know_. I heard the daughter is such a fuckup that she can't even read a crystal ball unless she's utterly pissed, and even then—"

"But you just _said_ it goes back—" Lily started.

"I'm just saying, okay, they are all Seers, but are they all _GOOD_ Seers? No. No and no."

Lily frowned, having completely lost the point of the conversation.

"In the beginning, we were all Muggles who came into magic," James explained. "Maybe magic was stronger in the first families because— think of animal bloodlines— mutts are stronger, healthier. Look at the Royals. They've had all kinds of odd diseases thanks to inbreeding. And now, we have Squibs. I don't think anyone knows. People just think they know. But Magic? Magic knows who it wants, and sometimes you just know someone has it."

"It's not like they don't have to work at it," Sirius said. "It's just— I'm better at Transfiguration. My brother, Regulus, he's better at healing charms. Whenever I'd get hurt, he'd be able to heal by laying hands on me. Mum told him that was an unmanly talent, and she would beat him for it. That's why he studied charms— but maybe he'll be able to study healing now that he's with Malfoy."

"That's rubbish, that's what that is," James snorted. "There are plenty of excellent male healers at Mungo's."

"I'm sure your family has their own biases too," Sirius said. "Sometimes it's really insidious. You don't even realise you have prejudices too until they slap you right upside the face."

James frowned, shifting uncomfortably. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Some die harder than others, prejudices," Sirius said. "We got a little reality check last year, eh? So close to losing everything. Blood was the problem, _not_ the solution."

"He's still out there," James growled, fist clenching. "The Dark Lord. I want do something. I want to—"

"Whoa there, mate," Sirius said. "Graduate first before throwing our lives into the war."

"What good is graduating if we're all dead?"

Lily shook her head. "Can we just focus on the exam tomorrow, _please_?"

James and Sirius gave Lily the eye, mumbling as they picked up their books and opened them up as grumpily as humanly possible.

All three friends looked decidedly grumpy, leaving Severus to arch an amused eyebrow. Imogen gave a soft, almost weary chirrrr, which caused Severus to slump even more wearily as the phoenix shared the feeling through her song. He poked her with his finger, frowning, and she yawned beakily, showing her bright orange inner mouth that might as well have had "insert gooseberry here" in golden flashing letters. Even masquerading as an owlet didn't rid her of that badge of phoenix chickness from her. An owlet eating fruit, however, did tend to boggle onlookers.

Lily nudged Severus with her elbow. "What do you think of _this_ idea?" she asked, pushing the parchment towards him.

He scanned the parchment with his eyes, his eyebrows lifting and furrowing at seemingly random moments.

" _Well?_ " Lily asked impatiently.

Severus rubbed his chin with his fingers. "It's an interesting concept, Lily, but do you think McKinnon is up to such intricate magic to be your partner?"

"You'll be my partner, silly," Lily said, the "obviously" hanging in the air.

"I cannot."

"What, _why_?" Lily stared a hole into him.

"As Urquart's apprentice, I do not share your curriculum. I am not officially a part of your class. Your assigned partner has always been McKinnon."

Lily sighed. "That's not fair. I know you'd make a reliable partner!"

"Professor Urquhart would make a reliable partner too, but that's hardly fair either," Sirius noted.

Lily glared at Sirius. "That's not the same! Sev is _our_ age!"

James rubbed his head of hair and then his ear. "All of us are using our assigned partners, Lils. Not just you. It's not like you're being singled out or anything."

Lily rubbed her temples. "I just want to get out of school. Get a house somewhere. Get a dog. Maybe mend my relationship with my sister."

"Get a dog?" Sirius asked, perking.

"Not _you_ , idiot," James said, thumping Sirius soundly over the head with his notebook. "You're such a dog."

Sirius pouted. "No need for name calling, mate."

"Sev," Lily said, tugging on his sleeve. "Come on, let's go practice." She pulled him along as she went back up the path.

Sirius and James exchanged concerned glances. "Do you think what Regulus said is true?" James asked.

Sirius shook his head. "I don't know, mate. But what bloke _doesn't_ want their girl to want them back? Even be a little possessive? It really makes you feel good, like you're important—"

James sighed. "I can't help but think that we somehow did this. We pushed them apart, stood in the way, made it our own personal mission in life to take out some stupid vendetta against him."

Sirius rubbed his chin uncomfortably. "The Ball is next week— what is worse? Having your big social moment ruined or having a great time at the ball all only to realise your girl—"

"Fancies another bloke?"

"What if it's another witch?"

" _ **WHAT?!"**_

"Just saying… what better way to get other blokes off your case than to make them think you're taken by another guy?"

"Pads, you must be smoking something, mate. Who did Regulus say she fancied anyway?"

Sirius looked at James, the muscles on his face twitching, seeming to squirm on their own in discomfort. "You, mate. _You_."

James' eyes bugged out. "Fuck." He shook his head. "Like Severus needs another reason to hate my bollocks off?"

Sirius rubbed his arms. "I just don't get it, Prongs. If she fancies someone else, why the _hell_ would she want to go with Severus? Break his heart? She _knows_ he's been crushing on her since—"

"Forever."

"And a half." Sirius said. "He's not the person I thought he was, but I don't think he's the person _she_ thinks he is either. Ever since he started that apprenticeship with Urquhart, he's been calmer. He doesn't rise to the bait. He doesn't act like a victim. I never thought I'd be saying this, but Snape's a decent enough bloke."

"What do you think of _her_ , Pads?" James asked, subtly gesturing with his chin to the side where Minerva was pointing across part of the lake and her daughter was using her magic on the surface of the water.  
Hermione was walking on water, quite carefully, obviously concentrating really hard just before a frightened duck flew up in her face and she went plunging down into the _very_ cold water.

Minerva was laughing merrily as Hermione spewed water and trudged slowly out of the lake, dripping. Even the owl perched on the dock was hooting with avian laughter.

Hermione spewed out a chain of colourful Gaelic, and Minerva only laughed louder, giving her daughter a damp hug.

"She's way out of your league, mate," Sirius informed his best mate. "She's all the way up there." He gestured with his hand to the clouds.

"Well, _some_ one needs to fly up there and catch her," James muttered.

"Going to sprout some wings and try to fly, Prongs?"

"Maybe."

"That would be totally ridiculous," Sirius snorted. "Even my baby brother knows better than to try and court her."

"Huh? _Why?"_

Sirius' expression went grim. "Her heart has already been broken. Even _I_ can see that now."

James frowned. "I wonder who broke her heart?"

Sirius shook his head. "Whoever it was— I hope _I_ never meet him. I might have to really hurt them purely out of principle."

"Since when did _you_ become the knight in shining armour, Pads?" asked a curious James.

"Since she saved our lives. All of us here at Hogwarts. You can just tell— now that our minds aren't being fogged and encouraged by the contagious Mark— it would take the biggest piece of shite on Earth to hurt someone like her."

"Prongs?"

"Hrm?"

"What's your opinion of Lily? Now, I mean?"

"Conflicted," James admitted. "The heart wants what the heart wants. I think I still want her, mate, but— only if and when I'm sure it's _real_."

""You know, you always talk about how you'd never want an inexperienced witch in bed, but I think—" Sirius frowned, staring into him. "I think you're just teasing the masses to find the one that is wise enough to call your shite for what it is."

James frowned. "Is it _really_ so bad to want a witch who hasn't been the school broom before she was with me?"

Sirius flushed with discomfort.

"You might not care where you stick _your_ wand, Pads, but I want something more."

"Maybe I've learned to not go sticking my wand in any old place, Prongs," Sirius said, his face completely serious for once.

"Well, shite, Pads,"

"Huh?"

"Apparently you _can_ teach an old dog new tricks."

Sirius groaned.

* * *

Oh, sweet Merlin, fuck me sideways, James cursed to himself as he clung to the tile of the tower roof with his new bat claws as he was tangled in his own bat wings. Then, to make matters even more ludicrous, his head sported a large (well, tiny) rack of stag antlers between his huge bat ears that went along with his bat everything else.

_Fuck._

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

He should never have let McKinnon test that spell on him. Her spells never worked— only work this one did. Worked _WRONG!_

Of course, Marlene had screamed hysterically the moment she saw him— him being a scary rodent and all— and proceeded to curse him out the window in a fireball of flaming taffy from the common room table.

Witches, man. They were were bat-shit crazy as fuck!

She hadn't stopped there, either. No. Oh, hell no. The flames set the ruddy curtains on fire, and he was now singed, cold, dangling by his feet on the end of the roof tile. It just didn't get worse than—

_**KaBOOM!** _

Lightning crackled as rain poured down on him in frigid sheets of pure misery.

James' teeth chattered uncontrollably. Bloody _hell_.

And to add to his list of things that he would never, ever live down, he could hear everyone lurking in the Astronomy Tower snogging each other silly.

Really? This was what his life had boiled down to?

The thunder rattled the tower and him, but he could still hear them snogging in the tower. It was so unfair. Oh, hell. What if there was a bat Animagus at the school?

Wait… Professor McGonagall was a _cat_. That meant… oh shite. Wait— Hermione McGonagall was an _owl_.

No _wonder_ she gave him such dirty looks.

No _wonder_ she saw through every single lie.

And he and his mates had been so— unflattering to her in the beginning. It was amazing she hadn't rightfully dueled him to the death right there on the Hogwarts green. He had the sneaking suspicion that she could have taken him apart blindfolded and with both hands tied behind her back.

"He's so _**weird**_ , Marlene," an all-too-familiar voice laughed.

_What?_

James let go of the tile and frantically flapped to get closer to the voice, slammed himself headfirst into the shutter and saw stars for a few seconds. _Genius, James. Real genius. You're a right clever piece of work, you are._

Marlene's voice chuckled. "You shouldn't be so surprised, Lils," she replied. "He's an official apprentice and you asked him to go to the Autumn Ball as your date. You asked him out. Of course he's going to pull a seat out for you and do things formally."

"I just wish he would do more— you know, _**physically**_ ," Lily said, huffing with annoyance.

Marlene crossed her arms and gave her friend a look of frank disbelief. "You mean—"

" _ **Yes**_ , I mean!" Lily cried, exasperated. She ruffled her long ginger hair and sighed. "I want experience. I don't want to be that inept little virgin who fumbles around like an idiot on her wedding night.

Marlene sat down, dropping her book on the table loudly, causing James to wince. "Wait, you just want a good shag? I thought you really cared about Snape."

"I _**do**_ care about him!" Lily protested.

"Then, I'm sure he'll understand if you're not— Miss Experience. I mean—" Marlene flushed. "Think of all the powerful magic you could summon on your first time, you know? I mean, all the other girls talk about it— some of the wishes they ask for are kind of a little selfish."

"What kind of stuff?" Lily asked, interested.

"Stupid stuff," Marlene said. "Like— erm—" She flushed. "You know, there was a girl here in Gryffindor that once wished for fertility. It was a bit of a scandal as she _**had**_ to get married. Fortunately for them, they were both already seventeen. I mean— they really loved each other, right? Thank, Merlin. But can you imagine how had that would have been if—"

"I get it, shut it!" Lily giggled madly.

Marlene huffed. "So," she prodded. "What is it you _**really**_ want?"

Lily's face twisted in conflict. "The _**dream**_."

Marlene frowned. "What dream?"

"The handsome prince, of course!" Lily replied dreamily. "The glorious palace, a grand estate. Royalty. I want to be… the beautiful princess in my own fairytale."

Marlene fidgeted uneasily. "That's a bit… much. Even for magic."

Lily shook her head. "I want to be so fantastic that when I find the one, they'll _**never**_ want to let me go."

"But Lil—" Marlene said. "You're giving Snape a chance, right? You're not just stringing him along?"

"Well, yeah," Lily muttered. "Of course."

"Lily—"

"I had a vision when I was in Divination" Lily blurted.

"A real vision?"

"Yeah— and when I was in Potions, we had to do Amortentia and the scents— well it wasn't Sev, ok?"

"But, if you know that, why—" Marlene asked.

"I don't want to be the only girl without a date to the Autumn Ball, Marlene!"

McKinnon scrunched her face. "I get that, I do, but—" She scratched her head. "Lily, there are other guys you could have chosen if all you wanted was—"

"I don't want to be another notch in Sirius Black's bedpost," Lily said, scowling.

"I'm not saying HIM, gosh, Lil," Marlene placated. "It's just— we all know Snape thinks the world of you. Seems a little cruel to lead him on when you had a vision."

"Yeah, well, I had a stupid vision that I threw myself in front of someone casting an unforgivable too, and that's never going to happen," Lily muttered.

Marlene furrowed her brows. "Death prophecy is serious—"

Lily threw a pillow at her. "It wasn't a prophecy."

"But you just said—"

Lily glared daggers.

Marlene held up her hands, waving them. "So, does Snape know about your visions?"

"Psh, I'd never tell him about that! He doesn't need to know what I saw in Divination."

"I dunno, Lils," Marlene said. "I think he sees things a lot clearer than most people. He only has one blind spot and that, girlfriend, is _**you**_."

"If he really wanted me, Marlene, he'd have done more than just kiss me by now," Lily pouted.

"Maybe he respects you too much to make assumptions about your body the way a lot of other blokes would. Which is kind of a good thing, if you think about it," Marlene suggested.

"But I want him to touch me!" Lily said.

"Maybe he wants you to show him a sign that you're committed too, Lils," Marlene suggested. "You know, that you're really into him."

"Of course I'm—" Lily blurted quickly.

Marlene frowned. "You're committed, Lil, but I don't think it's to him. Who is it that you really want? Who is the prince in your dreams? I mean, I've seen you with Snape, and you're as territorial as a Hungarian Firetail on an egg. If it's not him, who?"

"This isn't about _**James!**_ " Lily blurted.

Marlene's eyebrows shot up as Lily clapped her hands over her mouth. The portraits started to whisper in the hallway.

"Oh! Nonononono! Lily bolted out of the room to silence the undoubtedly listening portraits, leaving Marlene to frown worriedly.

* * *

"This isn't about me, mate, I swear it," James said as Severus pulled his head out of the Pensieve. "I swear it on my honour, what tattered remains there are left to me. You needed to know. Hell, I don't even think I'd— knowing what I know now."

Snape's pale face seemed even more so, his knuckles whitening as his jaw clenched. At first, there was rage. Rage so tangible it was like a wave of lava that overflowed the volcano's top, and then there was nothing. Nothing but stone and ice. His black eyes were blacker still. His lips pressed into a thin line. "I believe you," he said, his voice too quiet. "A part of me— suspected as much." He fingered the ring around his neck, worrying the chain almost habitually.

"What is that?" James asked. "Is that a family ring?"

Severus nodded. "I never understood the significance before. I never— I should have known when it came back to me so many times that she— sod it all. I'm an idiot." He looked at James. "And I know she's fancied you under the cover of calling you so many names, but she asked me. I thought— maybe, just maybe—"

James looked serious as his brows knit together in an unaccustomed heavy thoughtfulness. "Sn-Severus. I know we've had our moments… hell, more like years… well, you know. But you and Apprentice McGonagall, you two seem to have a real rapport. A— I can't properly explain it. It's something I seriously envy without even knowing what it _**is**_. Have you thought—"

"It's pointless," Severus said grimly. "I shut the door on any possibilities with her when I accepted Lily's kiss."

"Severus," James said. "Take it from me, a bloke who has had a great many doors slammed in my face—"

Severus shot his head up, narrowing his eyes.

"I _**swear**_ it!" James insisted. "I may hang with a certain mutt of our mutual acquaintance, but I swear to you that I've had more doors slammed in my face than— bloody Frank Longbottom, the great cauldron slayer of Gryffindor, and just _**look**_ at him! He finally got Alice to give him the time of day."

"Only because he kept ending up in the infirmary—"

"It worked didn't it?" James crowed, cackling madly.

Snape's lips curved up slightly. "I suppose."

"I'll admit, I like to make people think I'm just as accomplished as Padfoot, but—" James stroked his chin thoughtfully. "The truth is, mate, I'm waiting for the one. The only. The love of my life— but I just found out the one I dream of is ready to use her own best friend to get more experience to impress me. I— I just _**can't**_ — it doesn't impress me at all."

Snape seemed to give James an evaluating stare. "It seems there is more to you, Potter, than I originally believed."

"Good things?" James asked, wiggling his brows.

"Never," Snape replied, utterly deadpan.

James pouted, sticking out his lower lip.

"Tolerable things," Severus allowed.

James smiled. "That'll do. Look, I want things to be better between us, Severus. Not just because you saved my life. I was blind before, and I realise now that there is more to life than some idealised picture of what I thought Gryffindor was just because my dad was. More than just feeding off the hate my best mate has for his own family, and even he— Pads is trying to be better too."

"He is _very_ trying," Snape quipped.

James' hackles raised and then he belatedly realised that Snape was actually pulling his chain, and quite effectively at that. "Peter was always so good about enabling my anger. I realise now, looking back, all the little things he'd do and say to get me and Sirius all riled up. It almost worked, too. We almost became exactly what he wanted us to be: a perfect host for the Mark. That terrifies me, Severus. I pretty much offered myself up as the very thing I was convinced all of Slytherin was."

James ruffled his untidy mop of black hair. "Look. We know Hermione has been hurt. It's clear she's been through the wringer more than once, but you can't let one mistake or even a chain of mistakes keep you from trying if you really do fancy her. If it's more than fancy. If it's _real_. You let her slip through your fingers and you'll regret it every single day of your life. Especially if she ends up with some bloke just because they had the bollocks to ask and no one else did— and trust me, most of us don't have the courage to ask _HER_ to do anything, let along go out with us."

Severus looked sombre. "I betrayed her. Even _he_ — didn't do that."

James frowned. "Who?"

Severus gave James a haunted look, his eyes glassy and far away. "The one she loved and lost."

"First things first, Severus," James said. "What are you going to do about Lily?"

Snape's expression hardened. "Nothing. From what I remember from your own memories, the castle portraits will do everything for me."

James' eyes widened in sudden understanding. "Oh man, they're even worse than _girls_."

Snape sniffed. "Indeed."

* * *

" _Severus!"_

* * *

The scream of an owl-phoenix broke through his dreams, and Snape awoke in a cold sweat, his heart beating frantically and his breathing ragged and laboured.

Imogen peeped in distress from her nesting box, her small body wreathed in flames. She flapped her wings, trying to fly, but unable to. She flopped around on the floor, running towards the door, peeping as she went, her body a flaming beacon of pure distress.

Snape hissed as he clawed at his chest, and found the ring around his neck glowing brilliantly in the dark only to fade into a chilling dullness.

What?

_**No!** _

He pulled on his robes as fast as he could and flung open his door. Imogen had already slipped under the door in a surprising show of phoenix flattening, something that he never knew she could do. Urquhart was already there, his face very pale. "Severus, something terrible has happened to Hermione. We're going to the infirmary at once."

* * *

When Severus arrived at the infirmary, he gave a low moan of anguish when he saw her in the bed— pale as milk. Her skin seemed to be stretched taut across her bones as if she'd lost most of the life-sustaining water in her body, and she was curled up in the bed in fetal position. Fawkes was curled up under her arm, radiating distress as Imogen lay tucked under her curved hand, peeping.

The Headmaster stood nearby, sombrely taking in the report from Madam Pomfrey. "Are you sure?"

"It's a wasting potion, Albus, I have no doubt, but the tenacity— someone put a lot of hatred into its creation. It was very personal," the Medi-witch replied. "We've seen the pranks all the time, sometimes they use it to skip classes, but this— either they unintentionally made it too strong, or the intent was strong, perhaps both. I am waiting for Elphinstone to analyze her blood for me. I can't risk treating her until I know _exactly_ what was put into her."

Minerva ran in from the corridor, cursing in fluent Gaelic. She skidded to a halt beside her daughter and held her hand. "Oh, my wee bonnie lass! What happened to ya?"

Snape grunted, his hand tightening around the ring around his neck as an icy coldness seemed to spread outward from his chest.

"Help her, please," he said hoarsely, barely managing to sit in a chair without falling over. "She's fading fast, I can _feel_ it."

Suddenly, Dumbledore swiftly moved into action. He pulled out his wand and cast it over her, his aged face wrinkled in concentration. He placed one hand on Fawkes.

"Fawkes, my old friend," he said solemnly, "I think I finally realise what I should have done so long ago. Allow me to now help you to— help _he_ r— the one you have chosen to be with."

Fawkes chirred, eyes whirling with colour over the inky blackness of his eyes.

The older wizard's hand lay on Fawkes' back as he closed his eyes and a warm pulse came out from between them. Hogwarts itself seemed to inhale, taking a deep, cleansing breath.

Power shifted—deep, like the moving of an Elder God beneath the earth.

The air hummed.

The walls seemed to sing.

Magic swirled and cavorted, forming into multiple bird-shapes that flew in formation and performed playful loop-de-loops around the room. They gathered on Hermione's frail, curled-up body—

And _sang_.

Energy connected, knit, and tightened, the light intensifying until it was almost _too_ bright, swirling around Hermione until it engulfed her entire form.

Phoenixes screamed in the blinding radiance.

As the light faded, Garrick Ollivander had Hermione cradled in his lap. He chewed on something and took it out, placing it in Hermione's mouth. "Eat, my child, and be well again, for even the very leys have bid you well."

Madam Pomfrey moved to protest, but Dumbledore, who had somehow changed places without being seen, bid her to remain in place with a pointed shake of his head.

Hermione— her brown hair bleached an almost iridescent silver-white by the magical leys, with soft, shimmering pure white feathers mixed into her lush mane of riotous curls— chewed and swallowed as bidden. After the first success, Fawkes did the same, then Imogen, and then—

Severus suddenly found the entire phoenix family staring at _**him**_.

Stiffly, all-too-aware aware of all the staring adults, he reached into the bowl of fruit, chewed on a gooseberry, bit it in half, and gingerly put it to Hermione's mouth.

Imogen peeped authoritatively and pecked at it, making it go into Hermione's mouth, and Hermione chewed and swallowed.

Severus buckled as he suddenly felt the weight of the leys snap into place, rooted deep within the "family" and lineage of Ollivander. The leys, like the phoenixes, had a memory, and in that moment they merged together and shared.

Severus looked up, and for a moment, all he saw was a radiant mooncast witch, draped in a mane of glorious iridescent hair and feathers. Her eyes were impossibly black— a black as distinctive as that of every phoenix ever born of the Ollivander line. Fawkes perched on her shoulder— his own wings bleached silver-white— and he sang of joyous reunion and healing, his song spreading throughout the whole of Hogwarts as the leys returned to their natural alignment in perfect harmony.

Imogen was perched on his shoulder, adding her song to the warble.

And the great phoenix, whiter than them all, blazing with white and blue fire— Ollivander— sang only one pure note to join the song as the whole of Hogwarts down to the town of Hogsmeade simultaneously burst into tears and hugged each other at the same time.

The blazing white radiance engulfed them all— into nothing.

* * *

Hermione opened her eyes to find Ollivander looking upon her kindly.

"Good morning, child," he whispered softly.

"Hello," she managed to say. "I'm really tired."

Garrick smiled. "You've had a rather rough last few nights."

Imogen peeped imperiously from Hermione's hands, her feathers shining white. Fawkes chirred as he bumped into her chest, demanding cuddles. His feathers shimmered silver-white with only the slight sparkle of red and orange shimmering across each feather to indicate his old colours.

"What happened to you?" Hermione said with no little wonder.

"What happened to all of us, my dear," Ollivander said. "Our entire line is now blessed with the merging of two families. Mine and the very magick of the land in this place."

Hermione blinked. "Wha?"

Garrick smiled serenely. "I will explain more when you have rested a little more. For now, I think, Fawkes would prefer that you cuddle him more, and your friend looks like he could use a reassuring touch himself. He hasn't left your side all night. He missed the Autumn Ball, or so they tell me."

Hermione looked over to see Severus passed out and drooling in the nearby chair, a homemade quilt with a design of ornate potion vials all over it draped over his sleeping body. Her expression softened, the almost lifelessness in her eyes due to her Occlumency finally dropped.

"Ah, there you are, child," Garrick said with a smile. "Your song is so much brighter when you do not hide it behind such formidable walls."

Hermione flushed, nervous. "What happened to me?"

"Burning days are hard the first time. The body does not realise it can rise from the ash, so it makes one very sick. Instead of embracing the flames, it fights the fall and thus the rise, and the body withers on a slow decline."

"But— I am not a phoenix," Hermione whispered. "I am just a—"

"Your song is woven into my family, Hermione. From the moment you accepted my son's fruit, you opened a door that allowed for change. For some, that ascension is slow, but for others, it comes with the depth of the bonds between us, and you—you have gifted our family something as great and wonderful as the trust you have given my son. Symbiosis with the land's magic here, and in so doing, every place it connects. It was something that could not be taken, only given— and it was given to you. You, even as sick as you were, gave it to us— all of us." Ollivander smiled. "I fear I owe my wife a bushel of her favourite grapes. She knew Fawkes would make the right choice on his own time. She believed the greatest generosity could come from those who were once mortal, and I doubted. Please forgive me, my child."

Fawkes chirped, lifting his beak up as if to snub his father, but it was short lived, as he was far more interested in snuggling Hermione. He chirred forgiveness in his song.

Hermione, missing little, asked, "What do you mean, once mortal?"

Garrick smiled kindly. "Oh, child. So much to learn. In this journey you will never be alone. This I promise you. Now, the song ties you to us as deeply as your genetics. You are one of us, now. As is your devoted friend." Ollivander jutted his chin to Severus who was still out cold and drooling on himself. "He has given his all to you, whether he realises it yet or not."

Hermione frowned and closed her eyes. "He is with Lily. There is no future for him and me."

"Dear child," Garrick soothed. "He has already given up his known world for you. Do not punish him for making the mistakes we all make on our journey to find the one. We all have those we love, loved, and will love, and we must falter to find perfection. You came knowing everything he was capable of, or rather, what his possible self could be, but if you look closely, you will see other possibilities hidden in the Weave. The stories I could tell you of how many times my mate denied me. My clumsy mating flight. My embarrassing flight into a tree. Believe me, my dear, perfection comes only with avid practice and even more avid failure. Even then, things can surprise us. Like you. And maybe even the Headmaster, who, in moment of true selflessness, undid a lifetime of sins by giving the one thing he valued most to a dying girl in an infirmary to save her life."

Hermione blinked, biting her lip.

Ollivander patted her hands. "Sleep for now. Let the Song sing you to Sleep, She-Who-Burns-Brightly-Ley-Bringer," He sang her name in the ways of his kind, layered and woven with time and emotion, having added one more piece to her name, as was tradition for those who had Burned.

Hermione looked upon him with wonder as he replied with his name, as complex and long as a ballad.

"I will watch over you, child. Sleep," he instructed. "I promised your mam to keep you safe while you healed."

Hermione squeezed his hand in thanks as her weary eyes closed once more.

* * *

_Hermione opened her eyes as a familiar touch brushed the hair from her face._

" _Sleepyhead," Severus said gently. "I love what you've done to your hair."_

_Hermione's eyes widened as painful emotion surged. "Severus?" She flung herself at him, hugging him tightly._

" _Oh, my love," he whispered, holding her to him. "It gladdens me to see you alive after all this time. I feared— I had killed you after all."_

_Hermione sobbed into his robes, rolling her face into the familiar scent of herbs and parchment— the scent that was so distinctly Severus. "I've missed you. So much."_

_Severus snorted. "Why? Surely you had something better to do than miss this cantankerous bag of bones, hrm?"_

_Hermione shook her head._

_Snape tutted. His face was sad. "I talked to you every single day, praying for forgiveness. Praying you didn't hate me for doing what I did."_

_Hermione shook her head adamantly. "You saved me. I— landed in a lake. Your younger self pulled me out. Minerva— she's alive. To see her alive—"_

_Severus tenderly brushed the tears from her cheek with his thumb. "It must have brought you great relief to see her again. And my younger self? Is he completely rude and insufferable?"_

" _He's baffled, understandably suspicious, but kind," Hermione replied. "We saved the school from the Mark. It— became contagious."_

" _Contagious—" Snape shook his head in disgust. "I do not like the sound of that."_

" _Severus—How is it that I—" Hermione stumbled over her words._

" _You_ _ **died**_ _, my love," Severus answered her. "If but for a moment, a phoenix dies only to rise again, touching upon the world of the dead in order to respect life. It allows you to touch up on this world, if for a short time. Be at peace, my love. Here— I have all the time I ever wanted, and the joy of knowing you are alive. Knowing you are better now. It is enough to bring peace to my heart. That and knowing that old bastard is dead."_

" _He saved me," Hermione said, wiping her nose. "He gave up his leys— to save me."_

_Snape's eyes widened. "Truly?"_

_Hermione nodded._

_Snape sighed. "Then he is redeemable in one time, at least. I am glad you were not twice damned by him. But— what happened? If it was not he who caused your death, then who?"_

_Hermione turned away._

" _Hermione. Please."_

" _I was helping Miss Evans with her Transfiguration. She—" Hermione frowned. "She kept turning things into vipers instead of pythons or more harmless snakes. We stopped to have tea, but Mr Leaven came in with a question about his homework. I came back, finished my tea, and—"_

_Severus frowned. "And?"_

" _Then I woke up in the infirmary with Garrick watching over me. Fawkes was so worried. You were passed out on the chair. Ollivander said you'd been there for a few days. Refused to leave. Missed the Autumn Ball— he was supposed to go with— Miss Evans."_

" _Lily," Severus said with a sigh. "She was always very good at potions, Hermione. Far better than most thought. They always thought I was helping her, but— she was no fool in Potions. Her biggest fault was that she tended to put too much emotion into her magic when combined with potion making. She often amplified the intended effects. She once turned McKinnon's feet so large she could barely walk— with just a drop of swelling potion. As long as the people around you are not inept dunderheads, they would trace what you were dosed with to the source."_

_Severus ran his hand through his hair. "My love for Lily was blind, but no one was more aware of her capacity to hold grudges than I was. I thought I, at least, would be immune to such things, but after our row— when I did not take a hint— let us just say I am fully aware of the depths of her spite. For the longest time, she was my only light, and then, she was everything I deserved. Until you— pulled my head out from my arse quite forcibly."_

_Hermione snorted._

" _Please forgive my younger self for the blindness, Hermione," Snape said tenderly. "He probably is well aware of what happened to you was no mistake, and he knows why. And you— if you are even a smidge of the radiant light you were in my life— he probably realises, at last, just what that ring means. You, I— we have both made horrible judgements in attraction, yet we both found each other for a time, tragic as it may have ended."_

_Hermione gave him a pained look._

" _Your attraction to the Weasley tosser, I am convinced, was the result of a strong Confundus spell," Severus mused. "Nothing else could have taken such a brilliant young witch and turned her into an infatuated idiot."_

_Hermione huffed, but she cracked a smile._

" _You wisened up," Severus said gently. "And it took me a few more years than you, I will admit. But you, my love— do not let what we had keep you from what could be. Here, I am content. And now, I know you did not die. I know that you live, that you can be happy again. This is enough for me to be at peace. Please— do not fear for me." He touched the ring on her finger. We are forever one, you and I. Wherever you go. Wherever you find yourself. I will be there. Here." He placed his hand on her heart. Living life, through you. Always."_

_Severus enfolded her into his arms. "Live life for me, Hermione. Share with me the joy that we could not have. Take me to the glorious places we'd always wished to see. Together."_

_He placed his lips her hers in a kiss. "Live, and be happy, my love. You have been and will always be my shining star."_

" _I love you," Hermione said, looking up into his eyes._

_A shining door formed beside them, opening slowly to expose a golden radiance. Severus turned to her and kissed her fondly. "At last, it is time for me to go. My chains are broken." He crushed her to him. "I love you, Hermione, and so does he. Give him time to realise what a dunderhead he's been."_

_He stepped away from her, pressing his lips to her forehead. "You deserve a happy life, Hermione. Live it for me, and I promise you, I will be content."_

_Hermione threw her arms around his neck and gave him one, last, passionate kiss._

_Severus looked at her fondly as he brushed her hair back from her face. "Stupid girl. There is nothing to forgive."_

_With that, he stepped into the door and vanished, the door closing behind him. Hermione found herself surrounded in blinding light as the whispering of his voice chastened, "Insufferable girl."_

* * *

Hermione woke to find Severus staring at her from his chair beside the bed.

"You're awake."

Hermione looked around. "How long was I—?"

"Almost a week."

"A _week_?" Hermione frowned.

"My master traced the potion that you were dosed with. It was placed in your tea," he said.

"I was drugged?"

Snape nodded.

"With what?"

"Withering potion—" he replied. "A little _extra_ wither, as Master Urquart tells me."

Hermione looked down, conflicted.

"It's okay, I know," Snape said with a sigh. "I know exactly who did it. Chad Leaven blabbed his gut all over the Headmaster so he wouldn't be expelled. He was paid twenty galleons and given a bottle of Ogden's to distract you as your tea was dosed. He had no idea what the plan was, only that he had to come in and ask questions for a few crucial minutes. He swears that the only one in the room other than you and him was Lily."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said. "Will she get to stay at Hogwarts?"

"It depends on if she actually _intended_ to kill you," Severus said, his dark eyes fathomless. "She's in front of the Wizengamot now, with the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress. They're pulling memories. And they called in her parents."

"I'm fine if you need to be with—"

Severus shook his head. "She dumped me the night I was here instead of escorting her to the Autumn Ball. I guess staying with a sick friend isn't a good enough excuse for her."

Hermione blinked. " _ **What**_?"

"It's all right," he said with a shrug. "Potter had already told me a few things he overheard after McKinnon accidentally turned him into a bat the other night. She wasn't in for the long haul."

Hermione winced and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Severus."

"Don't be," he said firmly. "If anything, I owe Potter a limited edition package of Quidditch cards from the foil set. He gets to deal with the fact Lily is actually infatuated with _him_. After all the bad publicity and gossip— he's probably not going to want to be around her for a good long while."

"I never meant to cause her to—"

Severus shot her a glance, quelling her. "There was nothing for her to be jealous of. Nothing she couldn't have had for herself if she'd just been bloody honest about it. I would have been there for her. To the end. But that's not what she really wanted. She didn't want a friend, someone to talk to on starry nights. She didn't want a confidant. She had those things, but not in _me_. She wanted, ah… _experience_ so when the right bloke came along, she'd be ready."

Hermione's eyes widened. " _ **What**_?"

She gaped for a while and then blurted, "What. An. _**Idiot**_."

Severus stared at her.

She stared back.

They both burst out laughing, startling Imogen awake. The chick peeped in distress until Hermione cuddled her, kissing her head. "I see you're not the only one that didn't leave, hrm?"

Imogen burst into blue-white flames and radiated smugness.

Hermione, surprised that she wasn't burning herself, stared down at her hands. For the first time she realised her hands were different. Deep grooves marked scaled lines over her hands just like a bird's talons. Her fingers tapered into talons with crystalline claws that curved wickedly from each tip. Her arms were covered in a silken, feathery white down.

Snape chuckled. "For once, _**I**_ got to learn something before you." He passed his hand over himself, and a glamour dropped, exposing blackest of black satin feathers mixed in his hair and down the few places his skin was exposed. Soft, black down ran down his arms where it met the scales of his hands— obsidian claws dangling from curved talons, just like a phoenix's.

Hermione's eyes widened.

"I look horrendous," Snape said dryly.

Hermione touched his hands and then his face, running her hands through his feathered mane. "You're _beautiful_."

Snape tilted his head curiously. "That was not the reaction I was expecting."

Imogen scolded him, pecking him.

" _ **Ow!**_ " Severus cried, glaring at the pint-sized offender. He hung his head. "You're right, of course."

Hermione eyed Imogen.

Imogen warbled innocently.

"Turns out, I'm the black phoenix of the family," Snape said cheekily. "I wonder if that is anything like being the black sheep of a family?"

Imogen pecked him again.

" _ **Ow!**_ You naughty creature!"

Hermione laughed, the tension leaving her body at last.

Snape reached out as if to touch her, his hand hesitating.

Hermione pressed her cheek into his palm, her eyes closing as she took a deep breath and sighed.

Severus let out a ragged breath, a low moan of almost-pain coming from deep in his throat. He sat next to her on the bed and pulled her to him, engulfing her, heart thundering like a stampede of prehistoric beasts trying to burst through his ribcage. His hands explored her face— feeling the contours of her skin, her hands, her scales, and her feathers. He pressed his face into her neck and inhaled the intoxicating scent of her, shuddering as a flood of buried desire fought to be free of the dam he had it behind, and he—

_Sang_.

A warble of pure emotion bubbled up from inside of him, and he sang her Name. He sang his Name. He sang of his loneliness, his past, his want of a future. He crafted nest full of dreams, woven in the threads of time and magic, decorating it with the pieces of his life and what he wished to share— the places he had been, places he had never been but wanted to— with _her_. Only with her. The she-phoenix.

He built his eyrie high up in the streams of Time and Magic, thread by thread, memory by memory, and he sang to her, begging her to come inspect his handiwork— his dreams— all for her. All for their future. There would never be another like her. There would only be her. Always.

If only she would accept. If only she would find him worthy of her.

_Hermione. Whisperwings. Aura. She-Who-Burns-Brightly-Ley-Bringer. Find me worthy of your burning radiance. Sing my name that I may know the joy of your favour._

Hermione looked upon him in wonder, her now-black eyes holding so much more depth than he could ever imagine. They drew him in, and he was lost within them, swimming in the span of space to where every star was touchable.

_Severus. Orpheus. He-Who-Sings-Light-Into-Darkness._

She Sang his Names into the Weave, into Time, into Space. She Sang his name into the eyrie, her hopes, her dreams— places she had been, things she had seen, things she had hoped to see, wished to see.

Her body was born unto flames, the transformation from woman to phoenix a blur of light and motion, and she sang his name as she fled out the open window in a flutter of silent wings.

But her song—

Her Song!

He sang as though his body would burst— and it _did_.

Into flames.

Severus gave a loud cry as his body made the complete shift, his human form consumed by flame and feathers as the black phoenix rose from the mighty pillar of his emotion as he swirled, his great wings barely contained by the confines of the solitary room they had make-shifted for Hermione. He dove out the window after Hermione, his song bursting forth in answer to hers.

They flew higher— higher! They burst through the clouds and back down again, tumbling, rolling, and banking. They skimmed the treetops and then over the water, wings barely touching the surface of the water with each flap of their wings before they soared upward. Hogwarts seemed to resonate, amplifying their joined song as the phoenixes rose and fell, darted and swirled, and glided on the thermals as they chased, mirrored, and danced through the air. Their songs, once separate, merged, and the whole of Hogwarts had their hearts filled to bursting with the kind of love they had only been able to dream of, never to touch, never to _feel_.

Tears flowed from every eye, classes paused as a wave of profound emotion overcame every person.

Fawkes and Imogen warbled cheerily from up high on the ramparts, Imogen tucked comfortably underneath Fawkes' wing. They sang together in joyful celebration as the phoenix pair— one as dark as the midnight sky and one as bright as the full moon— flew back into infirmary window and disappeared from sight.

Minerva looked at Elphinstone worriedly, but he hugged her and laughed. "Couldn't have happened to a better or more deserving pair, my love," he said.

Garrick chuckled as he stroked the backs of his son and Imogen. "Ahh, love. Shall we take bets on the number of chicks from the first clutch?"

Minerva made a sound that may or may not have been a tiny, confused meow.

Elphinstone laughed heartily. "Oh, Minerva. If you would just accept my proposal, we could have our own kittens."

Minerva, speechless, mouthed soundless words.

Elphinstone pulled a ring out from his pocket. "Oh look, a ring. Where did this come from?"

He knelt down on one knee. "Minerva McGonagall, you're a right feisty Scottish woman. I love you. Marry me, that we may have many a bonnie wee bairn together. I'll even wear me kilt on me wedding day."

Minerva burst into tears and pulled him up, hugging him tightly. "Yes, you horrible, wonderful man."

Elphinstone grinned and slipped the ring on her finger as he kissed her soundly. "Shall we do an invite, or shall we elope?" he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

* * *

Severus woke curled up next to Hermione, his arm wrapped around her waist as they lay on the rather crowded infirmary bed. Fawkes was curled under Hermione's arm, snoring birdishly, and Imogen was peeping in her sleep in the space between the pillows, her feet up and twitching as if she was having the best dream of her life.

There was a groggy sort of completeness as the Song rang through every part of his body. He felt the entire line of Ollivander and his mate and the power of their Names woven through both Time and—

The hum of the leys responded to the phoenix Song in perfect harmony.

Wow. It felt good. More than good. Better than good.

Hogwarts seemed to breathe with life, and he could see the wisps and trails of magic as clearly as he saw the Time streams— only now they were one the same, woven together like an intimate tapestry.

"As they should be, my child," Garrick said as he stirred on the nearby chair. "This is our greatest symbiosis, to find ones place in time and magic. Many phoenixes go their entire cycle having never found such peace— or prefer to remain separate, fearing that loss of self.

Loss of self?

Severus didn't feel lost. He felt FOUND. For the first time, he felt right. All right. All there. Connected to the entire family of phoenixes. He could sense the chicks peeping hungrily on the next far away in cozy attic in the Netherlands, and another on an island somewhere in the Pacific. He could hear their Names, tiny and small, yet, for they were still babies, their Songs still short and simple, yet even they were part of the symphony of Ollivander's line.

Garrick. Shaper. He-Who-Creates-Teaches-Observes-Wander-Helper-of-Men-Silverfeather-Father—

Garrick's name continued on like a sprawling Wagner epic. His mate's was much the same. With every Burning, some new tidbit of wisdom went into every phoenix's name. It was no wonder that the Ollivander family picked shorter names to go by in the human world. There was no way a typical human could Sing the litany of a phoenix's true Name.

Fawkes yawned beakily, his bright orange mouth flashing from his now almost crystalline beak. The leys had bleached them all to white— all except him. While he felt the leys as intimately, he had remained as black as the Midnight Sky.

"Not so rare amongst phoenix pairs," Garrick said with a smile, answering his unspoken doubt and question. "You are the night sky, and she—" he smiled at the sleeping Hermione. "She is your moon."

Garrick grinned. "My mate is my night sky, and I am her moon. Some pairs embody the sky and sun. Some, dusk and dawn, some the sea and land. Some fire and water. And these two, are the stars in your sky." He smiled as he gave Imogen and Fawkes scritches under the chin. "We are all connected in the Streams, and now, we are connected in the Weave."

Severus found himself smiling. It felt right, this symbiosis. Seeing the little ley birds hopping around, flitting about, and fixing the Weave around them. He understood what had been so off about Hogwarts— why it had "allowed" such Darkness within the walls. The Weave was damaged— unable to support the life it should have. Now, however, it was healing, and everyone was benefiting from it, whether they realised it or not.

Garrick gave a content sigh. "We see many things, many lifetimes, Severus, but we are not all seeing. I did not see this— this generosity coming. What makes you so special, as those who were once human, is you carry that bit of unpredictability— the ability to change yourself in more than just a physical way. Press yourselves beyond a limitation. It is why I have enjoyed helping humans for so many generations. A little push, and anything is possible. Yet, so many times I see potential wasted. Talent shunned, beaten, driven below for no other reason than being different. Face less than perfect. Blood less than pure. Reasons upon reasons to hate what is evolution and change. But— the wand chooses the witch and the wizard. My one greatest invention to give outlet for talent. I can only provide the door. It is up to the wielder to walk through it."

Severus blinked, suddenly so much more understanding of the gift Garrick had given humanity in something so easily dismissed as a typical tool: the wand. It was but a tool, a way to channel potential into reality, but where would the Wizarding world have been had they only been using the dull wands of yore, made from hair from the pet Kneazle or from their Great Grandmother Veela— the proof was in the history. Very few if any wands rated against Ollivander's. Many had tried, but there was something about Ollivander's work that had no equal— perhaps because Ollivander himself had no equal.

He remembered every wand he had ever made. It seemed like a feat before he realised just how long Garrick had lived. Now, it seemed even more so. Multiple generations of wands passed through Garrick's hands, crafted by his special touch.

Garrick chuckled. "Now, I promised I would watch over you and make sure there were no more mating flights today, hrm?" He smiled broadly.

Severus felt his body flushing in embarrassment.

"Nonsense, perfectly understandable," Garrick said. "Just, well, you are in a school, and a phoenix, and your songs inspire everyone around you," he explained with meaningful eyebrows.

Severus flushed even more. Oh, gods. What had they done?!

"A wedding or two," Garrick said smugly. "A marriage or three. A few new relationships. Remember, my child, that we can only inspire. We do not force. We are not creatures who influence for our own ends."

Severus was still stuck on wedding and marriage. What? Who? Oh, Merlin.

It was with a slow realisation that Severus took in his surroundings and realised he was not back in the infirmary as he once thought. It was a new room— the open window letting in the breeze from the lake and the further off sea. He had been sure he was at the infirmary, but no. The clean linen sheets, the fresh pillows. It didn't smell or feel like an infirmary at all.

Garrick chuckled. "Do you like it?"

Severus looked around his new surroundings. A wide array of books on a great many subjects lined the walls, and a doorway leading to a most impressive private potions laboratory sat in the corner, complete with fume hoods and a vast array of top-notch implements, even a fully stocked storage room that appeared to contain virtually every potion ingredient known to wizardkind. "New apprentice quarters?"

Ollivander chuckled, and it sounded like a warble. "No, this is your new _home_. Hogwarts herself made it for you, whisking you away in the middle of the night and giving poor Minerva _such_ a fright. If you look out the window there, you'll see where you are."

Severus slipped his feet on the floor slowly, careful not to disturb Hermione's peaceful slumber. He found a pair of fuzzy slippers moved onto his feet, hugging them with a happy squeak. Snape stared at Ollivander.

"Don't look at _me_ , young man. My specialty is wands."

Severus eyed the slippers, but had to admit they were very comfortable and warm. He walked over to the window and looked out and realised there was a balcony— somehow he'd missed the door. Finding the door tucked away behind a velvet curtain, he walked through and found himself gazing out at a magnificent view of Black Lake. The ramparts were below where many faculty members liked to star gaze away from the prying eyes of students. There was an enormous private courtyard and garden below, surrounded by an atrium filled with fruit trees and even larger stately hardwoods. Owls flitted to and fro in the larger trees, happily making themselves at home in a far more natural habitat than the owlry.

"Extraordinary," Severus whispered.

"That door there," Garrick pointed inside as he explained, "goes to shared chambers with your Masters— they also have their _own_ shared quarters." Garrick coughed and gave him expressive eyebrows.

Severus flushed.

"And that door there, apparently leads to an indoor pool and sauna," Ollivander said with a shrug. "Apparently, Hogwarts believed you needed that. The door across from it leads to a fully stocked gourmet kitchen. And that far door, my child, goes to my home, just in case you should have need of me. I have no idea how it works. Elphinstone seems to think it is some sort of magic-driven wormhole. All I know is that we sent about four hundred different things through it before I just flew on through it. The worst it could have done is killed me." He grinned.

Severus snorted.

"I'm sure it will come in handy when there are chicks underfoot, wing, and everything else."

Snape's eyes widened almost comically.

_**Whoom. Pop!** _

_**Pop! Pop**_!

A clutter of fluffy spiders about the size of a Quaffle appeared on the balcony and let themselves into the living space. " _Oh hi! Don't mind us! We're just cleaning today! We alphabetised your library by subject and title yesterday."_

" _Yup!"_

" _No one expects that."_

" _I didn't expect that."_

The spiders shuffled in, all saying their names and hellos as they went by, but Severus only managed to catch a few like "Pong", "Fuzz", "Zip", and "Sprong" before his eyes went crossed.

Garrick laughed as he had one spider on it's back and ticked its abdomen. It squeaked in delight, hugging his fingers. "I see you met the house spiders. They fell out of favour when elves became a 'thing' but I think you'll find they are adorable in their own way and much more proactive about their responsibilities. We call them Eyrie Weavers because to have one if not a few to help strengthen the nest is a high blessing, especially if you build your nest high up, yes?"

Severus could only nod, watching Garrick tickle the Quaffle-sized spider before setting it loose on the living quarters. The spider zoomed off into the room and started work weaving table settings.

"Which one was that?" Snape asked.

"Boing, I believe," Garrick said.

Severus shook his head. "It's like a catalogue of sound effects."

Ollivander grinned. "That's what makes them special. They are as playful as their names. Well, most are. There are some that, like any creature, can go down the wrong path and just be mean and nasty."

A spider with a small bucket on its head skittered by, bumping into the wall. Severus leaned down and took the bucket off its head, and the spider sighed with relief. "Thanks!" it squeaked, skittering off.

"Some are amazingly unflappable," Garrick added. "Endearing too. They spend their entire lives often misunderstood for what they look like, their species, or just because they happen to have eight legs, but if people took the time to get to know them, they would understand them so much better. That seems to be the way of things, yes? Being misunderstood for some reason made up in some point in time that no one questions, only accepts?"

Severus frowned. "Yes."

Garrick put his hand on Severus' shoulder. "Your friend. Lily. It was not your fault. You can see the time streams, my child. Many paths, many endings. Some, she was innocent. Some, she was but a bitter child who never had the time to grow up and learn forgiveness. We are lucky in this— being a phoenix— we grow up, die, and live again to learn from our mistakes. Humans do not have this— or rather, they are reborn a longer and more complicated route, sometimes. Others go beyond. Others wallow in the time between, never living, never dying, never at peace."

"Some seem to live in purgatory," Severus said, thoughtful. "Here, in this life."

Garrick nodded. "Hermione has a gift of a once solid past she was a part of, and it gave her perspective in this life— and rebirth. Once you are able to stop hovering over her like a worried, paranoid male of the phoenix species, then you'll be able to set right what went wrong there and put an end to this war business. Then you will have a safe place and time to raise your chicks as you please."

"You speak from experience," Severus noted.

Garrick smiled. "It took me months of crashing into things trying to impress my mate. I was so smitten, I couldn't see where I was going— literally couldn't see where I was going. I was so paranoid some other, better, brighter, more loving phoenix would come and sweep her away. I had no idea she was just waiting for me to pull my head out my posterior and see that she had been waiting for me the entire time, worried that I'd give up."

Severus smiled. "I was rather blind myself. I hurt her."

"To hurt is to live, child," Garrick said not unkindly. "It is how we go about healing the wrongs we have done and being the kind of being that can forgive. That is the true scale by which we are made. To be perfect is for the gods, and depending on who you ask, they are not immune to imperfection. She is your here and now, your then and was, your will and should be. Rejoice in that you have found each other, not that you have had a few bumps on the journey."

Severus seemed to be deep in thought, his eyebrows creasing into a wrinkle above his eyes. The corners of his lips curved up after a while as he looked back towards the bed where Hermione slept, thinking nothing of what would have embarrassed him not so long ago. "She's beautiful."

He watched as a clutter of fluffy spiders gathered around her and cuddled her as she slept.

Garrick clapped his back. "No, Severus. You're both beautiful."

* * *

Hermione slept for most of the next few days, healing inside to match her outside. Ollivander was not worried, so Severus managed not to be, taking comfort that both Fawkes and Imogen were lazing about rather than hovering. Imogen radiated pride in him, glad that he had "pulled his head out of his arse" as she sang it.

The song had been surprisingly merry.

Minerva and Elphinstone visited often after every class, making sure they were both healing and getting some much needed sleep after the scare, and it wasn't rare to find Minerva curled up next to Hermione's body as a silver tabby.

Elphinstone used the idle time to keep Severus distracted with potions work, letting him channel his energy into something constructive and productive. He learned all manner of nutritive potions, antidotes, and the more subtle detection potions used to determine what manner of ailment a person might have. To Severus, it was all like music— subtle and utterly magical.

Hermione, too, was magical. She was song and magic combined into something gloriously unique, complex and beautiful. In her sleep, she sang— wto him and their unborn chicks. The future— with _him_.

And while Garrick had become the father figure he never dreamed of having, teaching him the ways of phoenixhood, Fawkes and Imogen whispered into Hermione's dreams, teaching her all of the stories and songs of old— the lineage of Ollivander, the Family.

Severus was glad she could rest. For the first time, her face was truly less troubled, less pained. And when her hand curled around his, pulling him closer in her half-sleep, he felt a pleasure so close to pain that it shivered down his spine to his toes.

His ring was _gone_.

He had placed it on her finger with the other from the Snape that had once been, and they fused together, becoming one in eternity as the Time streams had finally become whole.

They had become _whole_.

They were as they had always meant to be, despite all the different streams and all the different mistakes, villains, and things that could go wrong, they had found each other at last.

Imogen and Fawkes seemed pretty blasé about it, as they knew all along what was supposed to happen, yet they encouraged him to revel in the small things that snowballed into bigger things. For them, they loved them both dearly, and that was all they were concerned about. When they had eggs, they would all tend them, raising them together as phoenixes did. Who laid them never mattered, not to a phoenix. What mattered was the family that raised them, and as Garrick said, "it takes an orchard."

Whether he meant it literally or as a group of phoenixes, Severus had no idea. Maybe both.

There were many hungry beaks in their future.

Imogen had finally shed her down and sprouted some fine-looking primaries and a tail, having finally decided that it was time to grow up, at least physically. It didn't stop her from smothering both him and Hermione with a gratuitous amount of affection, though.

Still cheeky. Didn't matter how old she was.

While Lily's behaviour seemed to take a nosedive into the muck, Severus and James did the impossible by making up. Sirius made up with his brother. Remus was nigh ecstatic with his apprenticeship— it seemed things were making a turn for the better.

And Dumbledore— contrary to everything he had done in the other timeline— shared information with members of the vigilante organisation he had formed, the aptly-named Order of the Phoenix, and released what he knew about the Horcruxes and where they were— supposedly.

Only one thing truly interested Severus, though: the _ring_. The ring that had started it all. Or ended it, depending on how you read it.

Severus knew that as soon as Hermione felt rested after her ordeal, it would be time to make sure that what had happened in her original time wouldn't in the current one. The weakness was all centered around one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Yet, already, things were looking more positive. Even so, the temptation would be there, and that had to be removed. If anything, they owed to the old wizard for sacrificing his power base to save Hermione— though how he had _known_ it would save her was anyone's guess. Maybe, he knew that Hogwarts would take care of her if he returned things to its natural order, but no one really knew but Dumbledore himself.

Still, he did what was right in the end, and that was something the Dumbledore in the other timeline did not.

Things were already changing for the better, and he hoped that trend would remain so.

He could sense Hermione waking without seeing her, and he found himself moving towards her, automatically putting a stasis on his potions work and marking what he had done and what he had tweaked for his master to look over. By the time he worked his way into the next room, Hermione was walking out of the bathroom, having indulged in what he had amusingly dubbed the "power shower." While most other females may have spent a great many minutes at their toilette in the pursuit of beauty, Hermione was ever practical, even before she had feathers to preen versus hair to comb.

Without a word, she glided towards him and wrapped her arms snugly around his waist. "Hullo, you," she murmured.

Still surprised at how easily she touched and wished to be touched, he enfolded her tenderly, pressing his face into her hair and feathers. Even more surprising was his magnetism to her and how much he desired her touch as well. Had he known what this pull was and and the depth of the feeling, he would never have believed that his friendship with Lily had been more than that. Yet—

"Hello, love," he whispered into her hair.

Hermione smiled as she touched his cheek. "I love what you've done with your hair," she purred, soothing his feathered hair.

Severus inhaled her scent deeply. "Did you sleep well?"

Hermione nodded. "Better when you are there."

Severus raised a brow. "Better or worse?"

"Yes," she said cryptically.

"Garrick respectfully requests no mating flights for a while."

Hermione's cheeks reddened.

"That was _my_ response too," Severus replied dryly. His eyes widened as Hermione silenced him with a kiss, grinning at him cheekily as she ran her index finger down his nose.

She drifted out into new balcony and let out a wholly appreciative sigh. "Beautiful!"

"As are you," Severus whispered as he joined her.

"Flatterer," Hermione chuckled. She leaned on the balcony and smiled. "Hogwarts is so kind to us."

"I think I owe Hogwarts an apology," he said quietly. "There were so many nights when I doubted it cared at all."

Hermione seemed lost in thought, her eyes shimmering as she read the time streams and closed her eyes. "I'm sorry, Severus."

"Don't be sorry," he said. "You _saved_ me. It is history now."

"Still have to save the world," Hermione said lightly. "No pressure." She looked at him with nothing short of adoration.

"Severus," she suddenly asked, her brows knitting together. "How is Lily?"

Severus sat down on the bench nearby. "She's being permitted to return to Hogwarts, but with certain restrictions. Rather like— being on probation. She's not allowed to brew alone anymore— well, to do _any_ thing alone. Social activities only under direct supervision as the faculty allows or their schedules permit. She has a trace on her— like what they put on kid's wands only it stays with her for the next decade. It's a bit complicated. Master Urquart listed the conditions— one of which is the enforced inability to be around either of us without faculty supervision. Personally, I think he's more worried I'll poison her for what she did to you—"

Hermione sat down beside him and lay her head on his shoulder. "I have to confess that I'm more worried about what my mam might do to her," she replied. "We McGonagalls and our Scottish tempers—"

Severus snorted. "Someone made a catnip toy shaped like, erm, Lily. I understand that it's been highly punctured by tabby fangs and claws."

Hermione's eyes widened.

"My bet is on Potter and Black, but I haven't been able to prove it yet."

Hermione's eyes widened even more. "Okay." She took a deep breath. "I forgive her," she said after a while. "I know what that feels like, thinking you want someone and seeing them with someone else— even if you heart knows it's not right for you. It's hard coming to terms with that. The heart, I mean. Especially when your hormones are all over the place. I must have wanted and hated Ronald for more years than I care to—"

Hermione trailed off, her face paling.

"What is it?"

"I was just thinking about Harry," she said slowly. "He may never be born now because of me."

Severus frowned. "I know this sounds cliché, but that's really not your fault."

Hermione wrapped her arms around him and sighed, "I know, but I can't help but feel like he's gotten the shaft yet again by things entirely out of his control."

Severus nodded. "I know you cared for him deeply, and maybe I can understand why now. James tried to talk sense to me, something I never thought I'd ever live to see."

"Sense? Making poor decisions?" Hermione gave him warm eyes, teasing.

"I've made many poor decisions, my love," Severus answered. "Enough to varnish a ship with."

"Maybe not that many, Severus," Hermione chided.

Severus looked out over the lake. "Lily was always so curious about the magical world. Kind. But something happened to her after she got to Hogwarts. She wanted _more_. I wasn't enough. I don't think anyone was. There was a hole in her that desperately needed filling, but there was never any one thing that could. For a moment, I thought she truly wanted to make an effort— but I was blind. I'm sor—"

Hermione placed a slender talon in front of his mouth, silencing him. "Don't be, Severus."

"She wanted to meet with you— to apologise," Severus said. "But Hogwarts moved her around the castle in endless circles, so much so that she ended up in the attic. Your mum found her up there while she was patrolling. That's how _I_ found out."

Hermione wove her hand with his and squeezed it gently. "It must be very hard on you, Severus. I'm sorry for that."

"I have much better things to focus on now," he confessed. "Like where to build our eyrie."

" _Oooo, we can help!"_ A fuzzy purple spider said from the balcony railing. It was building an intricate web that resembled a doily.

Hermione held out her hand, and the purple arachnid hopped in. The spider made a low purring sound as it flipped on its back for a abdomen rub much like a pet would. Hermione rubbed the spider gently.

" _We like making nests,_ " the spider said. " _Just let us know, and we'll pitch in and fasten things down nice and tight!"_

"Thank you, my little friend," Hermione smiled appreciatively. She placed a gentle kiss on the spider's head, right above the eyes, and the spider turned in happy circles before Hermione lowered her hand so the spider could go back to work on its web project.

"Well, one things for sure is—" Severus noted. "Lily won't be visiting us when there are spiders about."

Hermione grinned evilly. "Darn, we seem to have something of an infestation here."

Severus smiled. "I _**love**_ you."

Hermione kissed him on the nose. "I love you too."

* * *

"What—" Hermione said. "Are you doing?"

Imogen had her head dipped in a glass of milk, her tongue lapping at the white fluid with comical effects. She lifted her head, now covered in white milk, looking guilty.

Fawkes shook his head, giving an exasperated warble. "She's craving calcium."

Hermione blinked. "Oh— kay."

Fawkes landed on her shoulder and warbled happily, preening her head. "Feeling better?"

"Much better," Hermione said.

Fawkes sang a merry song. "Good. The first Burning Day can be difficult. Yours was more difficult because you're such a fighter. Most of your lives— you struggle to survive, not surrender to the cycle. The next one will be easier, I promise."

Hermione leaned into him. "You're so sweet, Fawkes."

He puffed out his feathers proudly. "I chose the best!"

Imogen peeped defensively.

Fawkes rolled his eyes. "Fine, we _both_ did. You're just jealous that Hermione will lay a clutch before you do."

Imogen peeped indignantly, and despite her attempt at growth, she was still looking fluffy and chicky— and covered in milk.

Hermione laughed. She picked Imogen up and cleaned the milk off her feathers and kissed her head. "I love you, too."

Imogen peeped happily.

"Where is Severus?"

Imogen sighed. "Gathering tentacula cuttings. I'm not allowed to be around because phoenix chicks are food, and I'm not allowed to set them on fire."

"He cares about you," Hermione said, answering her protest with logic.

Imogen puffed her feathers. "I know, but I want to be there for him."

Hermione smiled. "We have to be away from those we love, at least sometimes. You _know_ that."

Imogen peeped.

Hermione ruffled her head crest fondly, and Imogen closed her eyes in happy defeat.

Imogen yawned and grabbed Hermione's talon with her beak and worried on it. "She'll be coming soon to attempt apologies," she said with a peep.

Hermione scooped Imogen up and cuddled her. "Everyone deserves a chance at redemption, if that is what they truly desire."

Imogen peeped, shaking her head. "I guess, but, that was _not_ what I had hoped for your first Burning Day."

Hermione smiled. "Somehow I doubt anyone ever plans for such things."

Imogen gave a birdish shrug, ruffling her feathers. "Well, we _do_ try and give someone a few years before throwing them headlong into the flames. You were not even into your first year with Fawkes, and you're already combusting and gaining new names."

"It wasn't intentional, I assure you," Hermione chuckled.

Imogen hopped on the balcony and warbled appreciatively at the miniature potted Satsuma tree on the balcony. "I _love_ this place. I'm so glad he chose to release the leys instead of keep them all to himself."

Hermione looked far away. "I am too." She plucked one of the bright orange fruits off the small tree and peeled it, handing a slice to Fawkes before eating a slice for herself. Fawkes warbled appreciatively, sharing the rest of the sweet fruit with her. "It's odd. I know it's winter, but the garden down there is in full bloom like this tree. I mean— I know Hogwarts was magical but—"

"This is how Hogwarts should have been," Fawkes said. "It was made to protect its people and be a safe haven for all magical youth and their teachers as well as the creatures that live in and around it."

"So— when Dumbledore used the leys to his needs, he took them away from their intended place?"

"Their natural place," Fawkes said. "It is like a human diverting a river or damming it. The magic built up in odd places it was never supposed to be. The Founders built this place leaving the leys as they were, which is why it was so special."

"Did you know what he was doing?" Hermione asked.

"No," Fawkes said. "I knew he was up to something, but— the specifics were hazy. I began to suspect when the only things that seemed to work in Hogwarts were the staircases and the places everyone knew about— while certain _other_ places did not. I suspected, yes, but I didn't know for sure. He's a very powerful wizard to have been able to do that and suppress detection of that kind of power. I knew he was powerful, but I had no idea he was hiding that of all things."

Hermione nodded. "How could you, I mean— that's huge. The scope of it is just—"

Fawkes warbled agreement. "Not that I could have done anything on my own. We phoenixes can assist, but it is not in our nature to bend the world to our will. We encourage and fan the flames of inspiration. That is our lot in life and in death, rebirth."

Hermione took in a deep breath, grounding herself, feeling the Song and the whisper of the returned leys. "It feels good, now. More like home should be."

Fawkes and Imogen made agreeable warbles.

Hermione looked out over Black Lake and smiled. For the first time, it actually felt like home.

* * *

**A/N:** Been a while since this story had some love, so here we are, getting closer to the end as it slowly creeps forward. Back when we started this story, I don't think the spiders had infested every story yet— oops? Sorry, not sorry.

So, here is my question to you, dear readers. What fate do you imagine for Lily? What fate would YOU like to see for Lily? I can't say it'll show up, but maybe, if the idea is inspirational, well, you never know.

I think most of you know my opinion of Lily is less than pond scum MOST of the time, but I have written her vile and I have written her redeemable. It could go either way.

It could also go with her trussed up like Thor dangling from the rafters due to house spider speed silk wrapping in that one story I can't remember the name of… Symbiosis, I think. Yisss. Anyway. Let us hear what you think, and maybe you'll see it. Heh. Heh. Heh.


	7. The End and the Beginning

**A/N:** Dun, Dun, DUNNNNNN. (See the last chapter was  _ not  _ a cliffhanger.)

**A/N:** This chapter has been edited  to match earlier chapter plots that were mixed up with other stories in my head. This is what happens when I have too many stories in my head. Apologies to the confused. 

**Beta Love:** The Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01, Flyby Commander Shepard

* * *

 

**Time for a Change**

**Chapter 7**

 

_ Right actions in the future are the best apologies for bad actions in the past. Tryon Edwards _

* * *

 

 

Hogwarts came alive with winter decorations as the land started to freeze, the air chilled, and breath puffed out from children as they rubbed their hands together in the cold. Snow spread out from Hogsmeade, covering the land in white, and many children enjoyed the toboggan rides in stead of the regular carriages. 

Many snow figures, some more skillfully done than others, dotted the Hogwarts green, which had becomes a snowfield of fantastic animals or at least what could be a fantastic animal if your imagination was high. Upperclassman crafted detailed beasts, animated to growl and move, if but a little to scare and excite the younger students. They rode around on enchanted polar bears and flying snow reindeer, even if it was under the stern scrutiny of Madam Hooch to make sure they didn't dump themselves into the almost-frozen lake.

The centaur did a festival to celebrate the coming of winter and the end of the season of harvest, and they roasted a large elk over the spit, centaur style, to share with centaur and Hogwarts in mutual thankfulness for the shift in blessings. They, too, had felt the gift of the shift of power. The Dark Forest seemed to be healthier and less ominous— less dark. Huge golden birds the size of the long-extinct  _ Pelagornis sandersi  _ started to move into the forest, feasting on the Acromantulas that were invasively inhabiting the place, threatening the staff and students of Hogwarts, as well as the native centaur herd. Wherever the golden birds nested, the forest grew even more lush, and the area that had once been dark and gloomy due to the Acromantulas became grand and beautiful, even in mid-winter when snows surrounded. 

The Eyrie Spiders seemed relieved that the golden birds hungered only for the species much bigger than  _ they  _ were, but they never went far from the eyrie and Hogwarts grounds unless they had larger and more capable backup. Even with their ability to seemingly teleport in and out, large spider-eating birds made the little arachnids mighty nervous, but it wasn’t like they had less to do at Hogwarts, safe within the grounds. 

Their biggest project was helping Severus in his instinctive, driven need to build his eyrie, and he flew far and wide to get the perfect branches, vines, and living moss to line the nest. The spiders assisted by binding the nest in silk so it was flexible and even taking the giant leaves and weaving them into a shelter over the top.

The eyrie itself was perched way on the highest ramparts over the arboretum, and Fawkes and Imogen assisted in decorating the nest with living plants, shiny things, and the softest nesting material they could find. Imogen turned out to be quite the weaver, making the sturdy nesting bowl that would harbour a family of phoenixes and their collected chicks, helpful spiders, and whatever else cohabitated in the huge nest.

The wintertime festiveness infested even the eyrie, and the spiders decorated it with miniature pine trees, snow, icicles, and some kind of strange glowing fungus they had harvested from somewhere. No one was exactly sure. The trees glowed softly at night, and when the phoenix family cuddled together in the nesting bowl, they sang softly over Hogwarts, putting everyone into peaceful dreams. 

People seemed happier, more friendly, less troubled, and even— against all odds— able to accept that being in a different house didn’t make another person pond scum. The gnarled hands of the Dark Lord and his whispers into the ears of youth seemed to fall on deaf ears, for who could complain when their magical school was truly and undoubtedly the best place to live in remembered history.

Dumbledore came to visit the Snape apprentices and seemed to take in the Hogwarts’ blessed quarters with the giddiness of a new first year. He and Fawkes took a walk together, and when they returned, Dumbledore gave them a scroll, signed by all the governors, officially blessing their residence at Hogwarts “for as long as the sun rises and sets.” It seemed as though the governors, too, had realised just how much better their school was with both magic and phoenixes in residence— a family of them being the kind of blessing many a school would have gone to war for. In fact, many schools were sending ambassadors to visit, hoping both to foster goodwill and get a peek at the phoenixes.

Strangely, most people didn’t connect the phoenixes to the Snapes, thinking the Snapes were merely caretakers. Severus found this highly amusing, and Hermione thought it perfect. Letting them believe that Fawkes and Imogen were the mated pair amused Fawkes and Imogen both. They would lead the curious on long, merry chases around the school, leaving Hermione and Severus with considerably less time under the spotlight.

Hermione, feeling as though she were missing something from her future past, realised that while the Founder’s pieces had been restored to their former glory by the return of the school’s true wards, there had been one thing that had not been from the founders: the diary. In her time, she realised  Ginny had been the one victimised by it, and in that time it had been Lucius Malfoy that had given it to her by slipping it into her cauldron.

Severus sent Lucius a detailed letter by owl, and Lucius had sent back word that he would look for this diary amongst his father’s old things from the war. About a week later, Lucius arrived at the Auror’s Office and handed Alastor Moody a silver-cloth wrapped and red-ribbon bound leather diary.

Lucius’ only comment was, “Roll in your  _ grave _ , father.”

Moody consulted with Amelia Bones from the Department of Mysteries, and proceeded to borrow “a few things” that he would need to make the diary “go away right proper.”

A stab from a unicorn’s horn (from a live, borrowed unicorn) and a soak in a bucket mixed with kirin tears and blessed water from some place no one could pronounce correctly and—the diary had exploded in black-clouded fury as the face of Voldemort came out screaming. As the pages rippled and burst into blackened steam and corruption, the cloud was sucked into the nearby, hastily activated Veil Gate as if it were a Muggle vacuum set on high. Alastor kicked the bucket and the diary into the Veil Gate too, for good measure.

He did not, however, attempt to kick the unicorn, much to the unicorn’s relief.

“Someone thank Amelia for lending us her Veil Gate,” Moody barked as he wiped his forehead, his eye darting around wildly. 

“When did we even  **_GET_ ** a Veil Gate?!” Auror Dickenson babbled in shock.

“We’ve always had one, idiot,” Moody said, slapping the Auror upside the head from the back. “We just don’t keep it  **_HERE_ ** , usually.”

Dickenson continued to babble on incoherently for a few minutes but finally settled on a large cup of extra strong tea spiked with a liberal dose of calming draught.

A few of the non-fighting Aurors proceeded to piece the office back together with magic, and conjured up a few cushy resting couches for those who had just watched the soul piece being sucked into the Veil Gate. 

Whether the Wizarding world knew or not that the true threat of Voldemort was  _ finally  _ well and truly gone, no one knew. There were no announcements or tabloids that proclaimed it had been done. 

The Ministry seemed to breathe a sigh of profound relief, the situation having bought them an actual chance to bring Voldemort to justice and not have him come back to life— provided he didn’t make another Horcrux. All seemed quiet, at least until…

* * *

 

**_Ministry Hides Destruction of You-Know-Who’s Instruments of Immortality, Hopes No One Will Notice!_ **

 

_ I know what you’re thinking! _

_ HE can’t be dead! _

_ But I know the truth! YNW’s Dark instruments of immortality were destroyed in secret hoping that no one would notice so that our good wizarding public could go on believing him still alive! _

_ But why? _

_ What better way to scare magical citizens into continuing to pay extra taxes and fees to feed the coffers of a war that never ended! _

_ And it’s all being kept so secret at the Ministry, but I, Rita Skeeter, your intrepid girl reporter, know the truth! I have ways to find all the dirt they try to sweep under the rug. I know they are hiding a Veil Portal in the Auror’s Office to dispose of people they want to simply disappear.  _

_ I think there never  _ **_was_ ** _ a Dark Lord, YNW, He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. No. I think they just made him up and threw some poor unlucky sod through that Veil Portal like he was yesterday’s news, then let the crime rate rise to blame it on some supposed master villain. I think that his is all some dastardly plot to keep our discerning eyes away from that wily old goat, Albus Dumbledore, who looms over Hogwarts like a dragon on its hoard. I think that he really took out that supposed Dark Lord and then made up some cock-and-bull story to make it look like he’s still the lily-white Lord of the Light side.  _

_ Let’s not forget about Dumbledore’s little phoenix breeding program that he quite conveniently set up to make it look like a greasy-haired Slytherin nobody and some random Scottish waif (who got her own parents killed, no less) somehow ‘saved’ Hogwarts.  _

_ Let’s not forget the vile love magic that someone cast upon Hogwarts and caused innocent children to set upon each other in fevered lust and unwittingly getting themselves married!  _

_ It’s disgusting what is going on over there both in the hallowed halls of Hogwarts and in our own Ministry of Magic. Let’s talk about the innocent witch Hogwarts framed with poisoning another student so she could take the fall as a witless Muggleborn idiot! All to make heroes out of a carefully selected pair of young apprentices.  _

_ I’m betting that if you cast a good, strong Protego on these supposed phoenixes, you will discover that they are nothing but overfed, transfigured chickens. _

_ I think Dumbledore needs to be brought forth to answer for his crimes! Who knows what other horrible things he’s done behind the twinkly-eyed mask of the doddering old fool. _

_ I, Rita Skeeter, bring you the only news that matters: the unvarnished  _ **_TRUTH!_ **

* * *

 

Elphinstone threw the paper into the fire, happily listening to the inanely yammering paper screaming as it was reduced to silent bits of grey ash. 

“You shouldna read such drivel if all your are going to do is get angry and burn it,” Minerva said, giving him a kiss on the head.

Elphinstone sighed, patting her hand with his. “I want to know how she gets her information. She sensationalises everything and makes up everything else, but there is a grain of truth to what she writes. Just enough to make me suspect she’s there during it. But how? I have my agents looking everywhere for her. We even have people looking to see if she goes into disguise, but she always, somehow, eludes every tail.” 

“She’s been a treacherous sort ever since she was in school, that one,” Minerva said. “For one so young, she has all the ambition, and even more talent with creative lies. She got in trouble for turning the Quidditch teams against each other by making up stories about the players and cheating. Almost got three students expelled due to dueling each other in the halls. She was kicked off the reporting team as well.” 

Elphinstone sighed. “That doesn’t surprise me, love. But I want to know how she became a master of disguise or whatever in Merlin’s name she’s doing to get in these places. Mind you, that last article was a lot more rubbish that truth, but there was a touch of truth in it. So either she’s a really good guesser, or— she has some way of getting in the know.” 

Minerva shrugged. “She is resourceful and determined. Had she been in another career, they would be far less annoying qualities.” 

“Well, she lacks the integrity to allow her to be under my watch, my love,” Elphinstone said.

A loud buzzing caught Elphinstone’s attention, and he shooed the insect off the vase of flowers he had brought Minerva. “However, seeing as we can’t seem to find the leak, I have taken the liberty this morning of sealing down each room with wards. Nothing goes in or out without authorisation, so unless you’re supposed to be at Hogwarts— well, let’s just say they will have problems. If it walks, crawls, or flies their activity is going to a log to the Headmaster’s office and to the Aurors, amongst other things.” 

“I suppose that will work, unless our culprits are students or— a teacher here at Hogwarts.” 

Elphinstone sighed. “Well at least we would know it wasn’t outside at that point. Plus, I have my apprentice working on a rather interesting project that your daughter was most eager to assist with.”

“Oh?” Minerva said, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Just what are you up to, love?” 

“Just assisting our dear apprentices with their mastery project,” Elphinstone said cryptically.

“What  _ sort  _ of mastery project, Elph,” Minerva prodded.

Elphinstone smiled.

“Elph,” Minerva said, prodding him insistently with one finger.

“Oh, just something that will get them promoted if it succeeds,” he replied cryptically.

Minerva arched a brow.

Elphinstone drew Minerva’s head down for a lingering kiss. “Let’s just say the leys are whispering, and the caretakers are listening.” 

Minerva hrmphed.

Elphinstone smiled.

Minerva offered him tea. “So, what did you do to the wards?” 

He grinned at her. “Oh, just… tweaked them a bit.” 

“When you say ‘tweaked them a bit, love, I know big things are on the venue.” 

Elphinstone wore his very best polished halo.

* * *

 

Severus pulled out an ornate box and Hermione knocked gently on the lid before opening it. Myrtle’s protége, Vesper,  whinged on endlessly about how she didn’t want anyone else in  **_her_ ** toilet, that it was her place as she’d died there and all. If they really wanted to share it with her, then they’d just have to die too. 

Hermione noted that no one save Myrtle had died in that particular toilet, and Myrtle had passed on, but Vesper wasn’t taking that to heart at all. If ghosts could have complexes, apparently they could also have delusions— who knew?

“Get out of here, you freaks!” Vesper bellowed, making all the toilets explode. “Is it not bad enough people are always making fun of me? They have to send you here to make it seem like I can’t even be the best at that? **_GET OUT!”_ **

Fawkes, who had managed to have his fill of Vesper’s caterwauling, used his long tail to whip Imogen at the ghost. The little phoenix burst into white flames, letting out a high-pitched scream, and Vesper covered her ears and fled through the walls as fast as she could, wailing in terror. Imogen landed on one of the stall doors, puffed up like a feather duster, flames wreathing her body to express her annoyance.

Fawkes raised his head crest and shook his head, perhaps thinking of the exuberance of youth. 

As Hermione lifted the lid to the box, both she and Severus closed their eyes. A small serpent rose from the box, curling around their fingers, tongue flicking in and out. It rubbed up against their fingers and looked around, a tiny red feather on its head rising and falling. It hissed softly, and the ground quaked as the hidden entryway exposed itself. 

The tiny basilisk rubbed against Hermione’s and Severus’ talons with clear affection and slipped back into the box, using its mouth to close the lid down back over its portable nest. Severus and Hermione opened their eyes and patted the box gently. “Who knew that baby basilisks could be so endearing?” 

Severus tucked the box away. “As long as you aren’t trying to look them in the eye, certainly.” 

Hermione smiled. “Technically, if we were in phoenix form, it wouldn’t matter.” 

“Indeed. Yet being in phoenix form hardly helps us open doors.” Severus eyed Hermione with an arched brow.

Hermione patted him on the arm. “Come on, let’s go.” 

“Do we have any idea  **_how_ ** we are going to survive a gigantic hungry basilisk?” Severus’ eyebrow twitched.

Hermione grinned. “Bring a large food offering,” she said cheekily. “ _ Ob _ viously.” 

Severus narrowed his eyes, hearing something oddly… familiar in her choice of words but not quite able to pinpoint precisely  _ why _ .

Hermione pulled out a miniature cage filled with equally miniature saltwater crocodiles inside and— was  _ that  _ a bull hippo? Merciful Merlin! How the  _ hell _ did Hermione— 

Severus blinked. 

_ Okay, well _ , he thought to himself. This was Hermione he was thinking about. If anyone could rustle up a cage full of African wildlife at some random moment, it would be her or any of her incarnations for that matter.

Hermione winked and crossed her arms across her chest and pushed off down into the darkness below, leaving Severus to question the sanity of his mate and himself for following her. Imogen settled on his shoulder as Fawkes flew down into the darkness after Hermione. Severus crossed his arms and descended after her, disappearing into the stygian darkness.

“This looks,” Severus said dryly, “complicated.” 

Hermione stood before the great snake-locked doorway, looking wistful.

“What is it?” Severus asked, touching her shoulder.

Hermione turned, smiling slightly. “Memories. Thinking of Harry.” 

Severus touched her cheek. “I’m sorry things did not end well with him.” 

Hermione sighed. “In the end he had to make a choice. Loyalty to me, or the survival of his career and his ability to feed his family. His children, they were innocent, and he could not leave them alone like he was, and Dumbledore, well, he had his fingers wrapped around Harry’s heart from day one. I didn’t have a chance. And Ginny, well, she wanted what was best for Ginny, and that meant fame and untarnished reputation with a fat paycheck to remind her that she wasn’t her mother. It seems to be a common thing for people. Apparently I missed that day in class.” 

Severus frowned. “I am glad you did. Do you really think one such as that could have ever found it in their heart to bond to a phoenix? To throw your soul into the winds of Fate to hear the Song? To sacrifice self for the many?” 

Hermione looked thoughtful. “You have a way of saying things, love.” 

“To love me,” Severus added in a whisper.

Hermione pulled his face down in a kiss. “Don’t even,” she chided. “Anyone who could not see the shining beacon of your worth just didn’t have the patience to dig through that cynicism and snarkitude,” she said cheekily.

“Snarkitude? Is that even a word?” 

“It is now,” Hermione said. “Problem with it?” 

“No, just—” Severus snorted. “I’ll take it.” 

Hermione smiled at him. “I just have to worry now, since you embraced your inner phoenix, that you’ll realise how delectable you look with those broad shoulders and chiseled body— I may have fight off angry hordes of witch Mongols to keep you.” 

“Don’t I have a say in this?” 

Hermione said. “Does anyone who is the victim of witch-covet?” 

Severus scoffed. “If they weren’t interested in me before I sprouted feathers and apparently the look of a bronzed phoenix god, then maybe there would have been some merit to your supposition, however, seeing as a the only witch I give a shite about is right in front of me, I find it highly doubtful my gaze will wander for something as pitiful as a piece of arse.”

Hermione laughed. “Severus, love, with the way you look now, it’s not about whether YOUR gaze will wander. It’s all of them, out there.” She waved her hand around. 

Severus looked down her nose at her. “Have you  **_seen_ ** my beaky nose?” 

“Have you seen yourself fly a mating flight lately?” 

Severus flushed.

“We may not have eggs arriving soon, but it was not for lack of prowess on your part, lover,” Hermione noted.

Severus flushed crimson. Imogen peeped proudly. Fawkes warbled with unmistakable amusement, shaking his head.

He pulled out the box again, knocking softly, then the pair closed their eyes. The little basilisk poked his head out, tongue flicking, and hissed something, and the door creaked and shuddered before opening. The little serpent retreated back into his house, firmly shutting the lid. 

Hermione and Severus opened their eyes and after waiting for them to adjust to the darkness, gazed out into the heavily shadowed gloom of the adjoining room. Hermione nodded to Severus and pulled out the cage she was carrying, moved it into the next room with magic, and then hit it with a Protego just before raising up a circular shield to surround herself and Severus as four large saltwater crocs and an highly irate bull hippopotamus crashed madly around the room.

**_SNAP!_ **

_ Thud.  _

**_THUMP!_ **

**_THUD!_ **

Something huge crushed a round one of the crocs and slammed it back and forth like a dog with a rag toy. The mangled reptile went flying in the air and then—

**_SNAP!_ **

The jaws of a hungry basilisk crushed around it—

Hermione and Severus quickly closed the portal door, having seen enough to know that the rumours were true. They heard even more hissing, slamming, and bestial roars before silence followed with the low, disturbing sound of flesh moving against flesh, making a distinct ripping and tearing noise.

**_Thump_ ** _. _

Something very  _ big  _ was moving against the portal door, hissing.

Severus placed the box down on the floor, giving it soft knock, and the two of them positioned themselves out of the way before closing their eyes.

The box opened with a click, and the little basilisk came out, feather moving up and down as he hissed curiously towards the door. Deeper, louder hissing came from the other side. The hissing went back and forth multiple times before the thumps against the door at last went silent.

The little basilisk hissed, tongue flicking. The door rattled and opened, clanking as the mechanism moved again. The huge basilisk on the other side lay nose to tiny nose with the miniature basilisk. Their tongues flicked in and out and up and down as they regarded each other from their side of the barrier.

“Cyriss says you can lower the barrier,” Fawkes said with a warble. “She won’t attack. She wishes to give you something to help you understand her.” 

Hermione and Severus tentatively reached out the the barrier, placing their hands on the shimmering surface. The barrier dropped, and the giant serpents tongue flicked over their talon-like hands, tasting their scents. 

The huge serpent moved back and forth like a cobra assessing its target, hissing softly. The little basilisk, who had managed to weave his way up Hermione’s robes to curl around her hair like an Egyptian headdress, hissed a response, his little red feather rising and falling much like Fawkes and Imogen’s would. 

“Be very still,” Fawkes warbled.

Hermione and Severus set their jaws together, both giving a soft warble of nervousness, and who could blame them with the prospect of not seeing death coming for them? Phoenix or no, the prospect of being reborn from the ashes after being eaten by a basilisk did not seem like a particularly noble way to die. The pair felt a slight discomfort as something warm and wet moved across their closed eyelids and seemed in between the crack. There was a strange green glow that leaked out from between their eyelids, and green tendrils of magic flowed through their capillaries into their arteries, sending the strange serpent magic through their bloodstream until their entire body showed the strange glow of green. As the glow faded, both gasped loudly, their bodies shuddering together. 

“Did it work?” a voice asked.

“Did  _ what  _ work?” Severus replied.

There was a soft chuckle. “It has been a long time since one had the courage to seek out the basilisk, even more rare to find one wise enough to bring food to sate my hunger before attempting to parlay— and you have brought me a gift beyond measure in returning my son to me, who I have not heard but for his voice through the shell of his egg, stolen from me so long ago by a boy who vowed that he would protect it. Open your eyes, beings of the feather and fire, for now you are also blessed with the venom of the scale— my gift to you in return for bringing me a most generous meal and the return of my son.” 

Fawkes pecked Hermione as Imogen pecked Severus, and they both jumped, opening their eyes to see the basilisk regarding them with sulfurous eyes. They gasped together as if waiting to turn to stone, but it didn’t happen.

The she-basilisk hissed her serpentine laughter. “Salazar did the same, only he screamed and clutched at his eyes as though they were burning themselves away. He opened them to see me only to close them tightly, fearing he had sealed his doom.” 

“You  **_knew_ ** Salazar?” Hermione asked, feeling her skin as if to confirm it really wasn’t stone. 

The great serpent nodded, her head waving back and forth slowly. “He is the one who bade me stay here to watch over his most valuable treasury of knowledge, hidden away deep within. It is here where I slept away in a magical sleep with my precious egg, waking only when one who spoke our tongue moved the lock upon the chamber’s door. The last to come was a boy. A wizard child. Dark hair and cold eyes like stone. He did not seek the knowledge below, but he had my egg, and he said he could keep it safe if I would perform tasks for him, and I did— but he never returned. Nor did my egg. I lived upon the fatted rats and other things that crawled in the dark, biding my time to escape and reclaim my egg. But you—”

The basilisk tilted her head. “You have come not only with food but with my lost son and I am greatly in your debt. What would you ask of me, young ones?” 

Hermione and Severus exchanged baffled glances.

* * *

 

**_Fabled Chamber of Secrets Found!_ **

_ The hidden chamber of Salazar Slytherin, long thought to be nothing more than a myth, has been unearthed by two young apprentices as an mastery project from their respective masters, Professor Elphinstone Urquart and Professor Minerva Urquart (née McGonagall) from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. _

_ The chamber, guarded by none other than Salazar Slytherin’s ancient creature— a basilisk—allowed parlay with Masters Urquart for the benefit of the school, revealing a treasure trove not in gold, but knowledge. The journals of the original founders of Hogwarts lay perfectly preserved within their sealed scrolls as if waiting for the time their knowledge could be shared with the world. _

_ With the old myths now debunked, the true bonds of friendship between the four founding figures of Hogwarts have now been revealed, written with their very own quills. Even more amazing was the history of the she-basilisk, described by Salazar Slytherin himself, detailing the facts of the creature’s life cycle and habits as well as their ability to serve as true familiars to the most brave and respectful of magical folk, and how Archibald McFawlty, his sworn rival from a family of renowned chicken farmers, cursed the basilisk line to be susceptible to the cock’s crow in order to sell more of his chickens to the frightened magical folk— a curse he claimed would last “for a thousand years.” _

_ With such a profound and glorious discovery, the two apprentices of Masters Urquart and McGonagall are set to be highly sought after upon completion of their respective masteries, and their masters will also most likely be well sought after as well for aspiring apprentices everywhere. As for their plans, they aren’t prepared to divulge them at this point.  _

_ Keep reading the Prophet for further updates on this fascinating discovery (and those involved) as they become available! _

* * *

 

**_Rita Skeeter: Missing Person or Fugitive from Justice?_ **

_ Aurors are investigating the disappearance of the well-known, notorious reporter, Rita Skeeter, who had made her name at the Daily Prophet for telling the “unvarnished truth” to the magical world. Regardless if you believe or not, she had gone missing in pursuit of what she could only tell her peers “something bigger than all of you.” _

_ Shortly after her disappearance, information came back to the Ministry that Ms Skeeter was practicing illegal, unregistered Animagery within the hallowed halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. While she hasn’t been found yet, the trail of her magic has been logged at the Magical Trace Office, indicating she was not only not invited to visit Hogwarts but also practicing illicit magic while on school grounds. _

_ It is unknown what her illegal Animagus form is, and many schoolchildren have become a wee bit paranoid, questioning everything from the castle cats to the castle’s bats. As for what she truly is, the Headmaster has invited the Animagus Registry to come spend the week at Hogwarts to carry out an official investigation of this most perplexing matter. _

* * *

 

As Lily fidgeted with discomfiture, Minerva poured the tea and distributed the biscuits from the nearby tin. Lily’s face paled as a lavender and a lime green fluffy spider scuttled by, carrying tins of sweets. They plunked the tins down, squeaking a greeting to Minerva, and then disappeared off the table. Another spider scurried over and bumped into the table, a bucket obscuring its vision. It squeaked out a fluent chain of arachnid profanity, plopping down on its belly with a dejected sigh.

Minerva scooped him up and popped the silver bucket off his head, smiling as she placed a kiss on his head. The spider squeaked happily, hugged her cheek, and then plopped a sugar cube into her tea cup, stirred it and scurried away, taking the bucket of cubes with him. A smaller spider, perhaps younger but with short, orange, velvet-like fur crawled over to Minerva, extending its legs in greeting. She smiled, putting out her hand, and the spider crawled into her palm. She gave it a lift to the nearby shelf. 

Lily tried to sip her tea and look neutral, but her expression was caught somewhere between horror and instinctive knee-jerk response. 

After the pumpkin-coloured spider disappeared, Minerva tilted her head. “Afraid of spiders?”

“I dislike  _ all  _ bugs,” Lily confessed.

“Technically, spiders are not bugs, Miss Evans. They are arachnids,” Minerva said.

Lily shuddered. “Bugs are bugs.”

Minerva frowned. “Sentient arachnids at that,” she said. 

“I don’t like bugs,” Lily said again. “I don’t like rodents.”

Minerva seemed to realise something more was going on than what she had first thought, thinking back to the trauma of being almost-infected by the Mark as well as finding out that Peter Pettigrew was a rat Animagus in secret. She regret that the young witch had such a trauma, but was unsure how to remedy it amidst the plethora of other issues the girl had. Young woman or no— Lily had problems with her emotions getting the better of her, and her magic both excelled and failed due to the influxations of her emotional backwash. 

It was really nothing new with witches, but Lily’s emotions were stronger than most. Usually such taints to magic resolved as the child grew older. Accidental magic was something young children had. Their emotions, unchecked, could do marvelous and horrible things, depending on the mood and whim of the child. Had Lily had a magical family, it would have been checked quickly with lessons from an early age, for one did not need a wand to make things happen or control the magic you had, it just made it easier. Some abilities, and Minerva’s family called them wild talents, were best settled with a firm, assertive exposure to controlled magic to level it out early. So late, however, and you had to deal with a lack of respect for authority inherent in teenagers of any persuasion, Muggle or magical. 

A chain of warbles came from outside the window as a bleached white and midnight black phoenix flew in, chasing two other silver-white phoenixes. The larger or the silvery phoenixes did a loop de loop, landing on a thick perch in the middle of the room surrounding an enormous bowl piled high with assorted fruit.

The phoenixes shared the delicious fruit between themselves, tearing into it, and taking turns stuffing Imogen’s wide open, bright orange inner mouth. The little phoenix, still too fluffy to be considered an adult, at least in body, seemed quite satisfied with the results of her shameless begging. 

Lily perked slightly, fascinated by the smaller phoenix, who still preferred looking more the fluffy chick than full-grown bird, despite her actual age. The larger almost blue-silver phoenix gave a merry warble, and the other phoenixes answered, making a resonant chord of music. They gathered around the larger, older phoenix and rubbed up against him before he launched off the perch and flew out the window, giving a happy warble that filled the air and hearts and souls of those listening.

The fluffy chick gave Lily the eye, her discerning black eyes staring a hole into Lily’s skull. Fawkes pecked Imogen on the head, giving a stern warble before snatching her up and carrying her out the window, despite her peeping protests.

There was a flutter and blur of motion as Severus and Hermione suddenly materialised where the black and white phoenixes had been. For a moment, they looked slightly feral— their dark, fully black eyes glinting with a sort of preternatural glow. Severus’ hair fell about his shoulders as a mixture of feathers and shiny long hair. The look of attentiveness, to Hermione’s shining white-maned face caused Lily’s stomach to knot in jealousy, even knowing the strength of her own visions. 

“You wished to see us,” Severus said, sounding perfectly formal. He took his mate’s hand as he guided her to a seat so she could sit. The curve of his obsidian talons curled ever so lightly around Hermione’s opalescent ones. 

Lily gasped in shocked surprise as she saw the almost alien merge of feathers and scales. While their faces were undoubtedly human, they had a strangeness about them that seemed to blur between species, much like how centaurs were not-quite horses yet not-quite-men either. 

Hermione whispered into Severus’ ear, and they both closed their eyes. Their forms shimmered for a second, and then the alienness faded. Flesh replaced scales. Hair replaced feathers, and Hermione’s shining mane turned into a duller, natural brown. “Our apologies. When family visits, we lose ourselves to the Song,” Hermione said in a soft voice. “It is hard to remember what others are supposed to see.”

Minerva poured them both tea, smiling fondly at them. “Tis fine by me, you two. I enjoy just looking upon you.” 

Hermione tugged at her collar, and Lily’s eyes widened as her hand curled around what she thought was a choker, but it was, in fact, a snake. Thick coils moved around her neck, both tightening and loosening as Hermione stretched her neck and yawned. Her fingers traced the scales gently, and Lily saw what looked like a blindfold wrapped around the snake’s head, covering the eyes. Severus, too, had the same, living choker around his neck. The serpent’s tongue flicked in and out as Severus gave the snake a tender touch of his fingers against the scales. 

“Are those—  _ basilisks _ ?” Lily asked, looking a little disturbed.

Severus nodded. “They have blindfolds to keep their gaze from harming people, and they do not desire to roam, save to hunt and eat— which they do in safer places, away from the curious gaze of students or staff. The one around my neck, is Cyriss. The one around Hermione’s neck is Eilish, his mother. She allowed herself to be made smaller so she could be closer to us now that the Chamber of Secrets is no longer secret. The closeness seals the Covenant— the bond, which is why they are both allowed with us instead of being forced into hiding somewhere deep within the bowels of the Ministry.”

“But— they are **_basilisks!”_ ** Lily exclaimed. “A type XXXXX dangerous, untamable magical creature!”

Hermione looked over with a slight smile. “There are many highly misunderstood creatures out there,” she said. Eilish raised her head, hissing into Hermione’s ear, and Hermione had to bite back a snicker. 

“Eilish asks that you please refrain from hysterical screaming, as it’s very painful to basilisk ears,” she translated.

Lily paled and swallowed, nodding. 

Severus extended his arm to Minerva, and Cyriss slithered down to visit Minerva, extending himself off the wizard’s hand to seek Minerva’s warm arm. Minerva placed her arm out, and he curled around it, moving up her arm to nestle under and around her collar, with just a little wrapped around her bun like a scaly hair ornament.

Severus smiled. “You spoil him so much. He loves how very warm you are,” he said.

Minerva grinned. “I’m getting used to being a favourite heat rock for him, laddie. It’s quite amusing.”

The little basilisk’s head feather rose and fell as he hissed serpentine laughter and snuggled closer into Minerva’s neck.

“It’s that uniquely feline aura of warmth,” Hermione said with a wink. 

They all turned to Lily.

“I know you’ve been wishing to speak with us for some time now, Miss Evans,” Hermione said. “Please, what is it that you wish to say?”

“I apologise,” Lily said, looking down. “I did a shameful thing in dosing your tea and trying to keep you away from Sev. I didn’t  _ mean  _ for it to poison you, I swear it, but I know I shouldn’t have done it anyway, regardless of my true intentions. It was a terrible thing to do, and— I felt awful when I realised exactly what I had done— and what I had almost done. I thought— I thought Sev was just avoiding me because of the horrid things all the portraits were saying about me. I was an idiot, and a fool. I— I want to make it right.” 

Severus looked sombre, his lips pulled into a tight frown, yet Hermione’s hand went over his and she lightly squeezed his fingers. 

“You may think, Miss Evans, that all the portraits do is speak of the ill deeds you may have committed, but they  _ also  _ tell the story of witch who defended a young Slytherin girl from the unwanted advances of an wizard who did not wish to take no for an answer. While still others paint a picture of a witch who helped Argus Filch with some cleanup without being asked, even helping him to furnish his room to be less stifling, and rescuing a kitten from a suit of armour to give to him for company.” 

Hermione took a deep breath. “Such demonstrations mean a great deal more to me than apologies, as actions are so much more telling than words.” 

Severus exchanged glances with Hermione. “There is a boarding house for abandoned squib children and unwed teenage mothers in Hogsmeade. It is not commonly known, for the facade is a bakery that they run to provide funds for those in their care. They are, unfortunately, lacking in both sufficient hands and funds to expand their efforts— alas, there are many more such situations as of late than they can reasonably handle. If you  _ truly  _ wish to make your mark on the world, perhaps you can start there. In time, you may find that nothing erases a shameful past quite as well as acts of genuine kindness in the present.” 

“You may even find a new calling in it,” Hermione said quietly, her curly tresses falling about her face like a frame. Eilish hissed something into her ear, and Hermione nodded. 

“Eilish says poor reputations are not always easy to shake, but there are those that will always know the truth,” Hermione translated. “Those are the people who really matter.” 

“But do not do this to prove to  _ us _ ,” Severus said, as he cricked his neck to the side. “Do it for yourself or not at all.” 

“For once you leave Hogwarts, Miss Evans,” Hermione pointed out, “it is not us you will have to live with.” 

“If this is something you wish to do, Miss Evans,” Minerva said after a while, “then I will arrange it so you can do so on weekends, provided your class work does not suffer. Your N.E.W.T.s are coming up, and you should not forget how important they are to your future.” 

Lily bit her lip. “Professor, I would also like to start a study group for the N.E.W.T.s. Something where members of all four houses could come study together. Someplace neutral. The library, perhaps? In the evenings before curfew.” 

Minerva tapped her fingers to her chin. “I don’t see why not. I will discuss the times with Madam Pince, and she will owl you with the details and when she can be there to supervise.”

Lily, paling at the thought of the notoriously strict Madam Pince, swallowed hard but nodded in agreement. “Thank you, Professor.” 

Lily squeezed her hands tightly. “I would like to volunteer at the boarding house on the weekends as well.”

Minerva lifted her head, seemingly appraising Lily. “Very well, Miss Evans. I will owl you the details once I have spoken with Mrs Callidora Featherwaite, the social worker in charge over there.” 

Lily nodded, and her eyes went round as saucers at the sight of a large puffball spider with fluffy lavender fur and pink spots putting sugar in her tea and stirring it for her. 

_ “Would you like milk?” _ the spider asked.

“Nothankyou,” Lily said in a rush that sounded more like a squeak. 

_ “Okay!” _ the spider scurried off, hopping over to Severus, crawling up his arm and then leaping off it to silk-glide off to another space.

Lily slowly moved the teacup away from her, staring at her lap.

A pair of spiders tugged a sliced loaf of lemon cake over. 

_ “Lemon cake?” _ they asked.

_ “We made it ourselves!” _ the other spider said excitedly.

_ “It’s delicious!” _

_ “Try some!” _

Minerva plucked up a piece and nibbled. “Oh, my fuzzy little friends, you’ve really outdone yourselves.” 

_ “Yay!”  _

_ “Double yay!”  _

_ “Enjoy!” _

The spiders spronged up off the table and disappeared in a puff of ether.

“Cake, my dear?” Minerva said, extending the plate.

Lily shook her head rather violently.

Hermione and Severus both took pieces of cake and rolled their eyes in pleasure.

“I think the house-elves are going to need to really step up their game,” Severus commented.

“Well there is  _ always  _ elf wine,” Minerva quipped.

“Spider cider?” Hermione suggested.

_ “Oo! Good idea!” _ a puffball said from her hair. It poofed into a cloud of ether and disappeared.

“Now you did it,” Severus chuckled.

Hermione grinned sheepishly. “Oops.” 

Severus’ lip twitched, then he pointed at Lily’s left shoulder. “Miss Evans, You have a—” 

Lily let out a panicked screech at the sight of a large shiny green beetle clinging to her sweater. She swatted frantically at her clothes and then grabbed the first thing she could find that was large and heavy. Snatching Minerva’s logbook up off her desk, she started slamming it down repeatedly over the skittering beetle, yelling hysterically.

Hermione and Severus quickly scooched their chairs back as the fury of the witch seemed to go into the very physical instead of the magical. Minerva too, had wide eyes, as they were all totally focused on the scene like horrified Muggles watching an imminent train wreck.

Lily, on the other hand, was far too busy going completely crazy in her absolute determination to obliterate one terrified bug off the face of the Earth. She slammed the book down with such force that the jar of quills went flying off Minerva’s desk. The next few slams missed the beetle by mere centimeters, and the next few sent the plate of lemon cake and the teapot flying in random directions. The teapot landed in a hastily spun web, the lemon cake landed on a frantic house elf, the quills ended up stuck in the ceiling, slammed into a portrait, whose sole occupant dove for cover, and all the parchments that had once lined Minerva’s desk attempted to make their escape out the open window.

Lily, perhaps belatedly remembering that she was a witch, pulled out her wand and pointed it at the offending insect, screaming,  **_“EXPULSO!”_ **

A jet of blue light slammed into the offending insect and blew it into the nearest castle wall with an added explosion on impact, rocking the entire room and knocking everyone to the floor as the room was lit up with a flare of brilliant blue. There was a low-pitched whine as Elph’s new wards abruptly slammed into place, shimmering with electrical current as his magic prevented any and all escape from those who were not recognised as rightful residents of Hogwarts.

Only the sound of a woman’s high-pitched shrieking filled the emptiness after.

Lily blinked as the blinding brilliance cleared, yet the screaming did not end. As she looked around, black and white wings unfolded from Minerva, unwrapping like the wings of a dragon as Severus and Hermione stood, carefully extricating the Deputy Headmistress from the debris left in the wake of the blast.

A gaping hole in Minerva’s office wall exposed them all to the elements outside. A startled-looking owl perched on the remnants of the stone wall, looking quite baffled. Its leg was wrapped with a message, but the owl looked ready to fly off and ditch its duty in favour of sweet survival.

Dumbledore stumbled in from the de-hinged door, staggering in to stare dumbfounded at the destruction of his deputy’s office.

“Minerva? Dear Merlin, are you alright?” 

Minerva shook her head. “Yes, Albus, thankfully I am in one piece. However—” She looked down at the floor. “I believe _ she _ will require emergency medical attention.” 

Dumbledore shuffled carefully around and over the overturned chairs, books, desk and assorted debris to find the crumpled form of Rita Skeeter, bleeding, broken and moaning in agony on Minerva’s floor. His brows rose quickly before furrowing in thought. “Well, Ms Skeeter, had I known you were going to visit us today, I would have arranged for rather more comfortable accommodations than Minerva’s office floor. There are some Aurors that are just dying to ask you some questions, questions I wouldn’t mind hearing the answers to myself.” 

Dumbledore stroked his beard. “Would someone please tell me what, exactly, caused  _ this _ ?” He eyed the Snapes and their basilisks with frank suspicion.

Minerva, Severus, and Hermione all pointed to a red-faced Lily Evans at the same time, saying not a word.

Lily, pinned by the Headmaster’s piercing blue gaze, swallowed hard. “I swear, Professor, I just squished a stupid bug!”

“Well,” Dumbledore said with a strangely amused lightheartedness. “You may have that partly right, my dear.” He waved his wand and sent his phoenix Patronus flying out the open wall. “Ms Skeeter, I fear I always knew you’d come to a bad end, however, this was not quite how I envisioned it.” 

Skeeter let out a pained wheeze. “I’ll make you pay for this, you little ginger bint,” she said, glaring as she pulled into a fetal position, grimacing in pain.

“Ah, Ms Skeeter,” Elph said as he gave his wife a kiss on the head. “What a true pleasure it is to meet you at last.” His eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “I will be happy to let the Aurors know what you truly think of our students here at Hogwarts as well as inform them of every single time you’ve passed through the tracking wards within the last month.” 

Skeeter’s eyes were filled with undisguised hatred, but the moment they were, one of the enchanted censors that hung in Minerva’s office (and had miraculously not been blown up) went off and doused the Rita with calming drought and tranquilising potion left over from when the contagious Mark was spreading through Hogwarts like a foul pestilence.

Rita’s expression suddenly went slack and her eyes fluttered before she slumped onto the floor, drooling.

Dumbledore poked the censor with his finger. “Well, I’ve never been quite so glad that those were around,” he said. “Is there anything else you would like to tell me before the Aurors arrive?” 

Elph and Minerva exchanged glances as Hermione and Severus did the same.

“No,” they all chorused together.

Dumbledore stroked his beard. “Now that isn’t suspicious at  _ all. _ ”

* * *

 

**Justice Served: Rita Skeeter Convicted**

**Exposed as Illegal Animagus**

_ Rita Skeeter, self-titled bringer of truth to the wizarding media, was recently caught using her illegal, unregistered Animagus form to spy on staff and students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. _

_ Hundreds of thousands of incidents dating back to her initial employment at the Daily Prophet came up in evidence, all of which Ms Skeeter denied until the Wizengamot authorised the use of Veritaserum and follow-up confirmation by Adept Legilimens obtained on loan from the Department of Mysteries.  _

_ The heroine who was instrumental in exposing Ms Skeeter’s shameful illicit activities is a seventh year Gryffindor student, Lily Evans, whose previous notoriety came about when a botched withering potion prepared by Miss Evans endangered the life of a Hogwarts apprentice teacher, Hermione Snape (née McGonagall). Hermione Snape, wife of fellow Apprentice Severus Snape and daughter to Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall had dismissed the incident as being typical school behaviour with the added misfortune of being very much emotionally charged, something often seen in cases of accidental magic in children before they receive appropriate training. _

_ “We wouldn’t blame a child for accidentally making the family dog meow, and we can’t blame Miss Evans for not having been trained for something most magical families deal with early in a child’s life. There is no screening for it, and many people simply assume that children grow out of it, taking for granted that children exposed to magic in their families learn control faster,” the Deputy Headmistress stated.  _

_ “Perhaps, this is something we should screen for with incoming students to prevent such things from happening again. It is a school, and we do have many ages of children learning here. Emotions do often run high and low as they do outside of Hogwarts, but I think we all know that certain ages are more apt to be emotionally charged and unprepared to deal with the effect of such situations on their control of their magic. We must consider that not every accident was caused through malice, nor was every supposed accident an innocent occurrence. That is the judgement call every parent must make as well.  _

_ What is important here is that Miss Evans is truly remorseful and working hard to mend the rift caused by her inappropriate choices, and that is all we can ask of anyone who has ever made an error in judgment, however dire.” _

_ As for Ms Skeeter, her condition is currently stable but she remains under a healer’s care after it was discovered that Skeeter is highly allergic to one of the active components in Skele-Gro. Her trial took place while Skeeter was bed-bound, for which she was specially Apparated in from St Mungos. Afterward, she was transferred to the Azkaban infirmary to serve out her sentence of one year for every single year she has been illegally using her unregistered Animagus form plus twenty additional years for trespass, illegally accessing confidential Ministry files, blackmail, use of her form for nefarious purposes, and multiple counts of bribery to gain access to confidential records. _

_ As for charges being brought up against Ms Skeeter by the victims of her criminal activities, many have been lining up to add their own lists of personal grievances to the quickly-growing pile. _

_ Those wishing to register possible incidents involving Ms Skeeter are being told to show up in person to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement between the hours of one and four p.m., Monday through Friday. _

* * *

 

**_Strange Snake-faced Man From Travelling Circus Killed in Sudden Storm_ **

_ Parts of Europe experienced extremely high winds reaching 144 kilometers per hour over the last week, stopping flights, toppling trees, halting trains, tearing off roofs, and blowing trucks of the highway. Falling trees killed a number of people by falling on the streets and onto houses while many more avoided death if only by sheer luck.  _

_ Traffic reports from around Europe from Britain, Netherlands, Germany, and beyond paint a dangerous picture of the perfect storm. _

_ “It was like the Wizard of Oz!” Jeroen from the Netherlands stated in an interview. “Bicycles were blowing around with people on them, people were tumbling across the pavement, cargo shipping containers were falling into the sea, and the roofs were just taking off into the air!” _

_ Alas, this was not the only incident.  _

_ While a number of deaths and near-deaths peppered the region, nothing was quite a bizarre as the discovery of a snake-faced man who was apparently impaled by a falling tree and then blown out to sea. A fisherman found the disfigured corpse caught in the remains of his tangled fishing net that had wrapped itself around the floating tree trunk and the unfortunate man. _

_ No clue to the identity of the man has been found, but officials seem to think he was from a travelling circus, and they are hoping that in reading the news, the family or coworkers of the victim will recognise him and come forward. _

_ “Whoever he is, he’s had a lot of plastic surgery to make himself look like he did,” the coroner reported.  _

_ The victim’s only belongings were some strange coins, a carved branch shaped like a bone, and the tattered robes that had been ravaged by the storm. _

_ Anyone who is missing a loved one or co-worker by this description are encouraged to speak with the Missing Person Unit or law enforcement officials nearest you. _

_ People are warned to stay safe during these storms, and if you are living near high trees, to please take care to shelter safely. _

* * *

 

“Lucius, you’ve truly outdone yourself,” Severus said, his thin lips turned up into a smile.

The shop was filled with exotic trade items from all around the world, but none so bright and colourful as the local spider silk dressing gowns and scarves, and the kegs of now highly cherished “spider cider”. Reams of other fabrics lined an entire shelf as colourful bottles of tinctures, scents, perfumes, and colognes took up another.

“Don’t forget me, brother,” Regulus said, grinning as he arranged a shelf of wizard grooming products that would turn even the scruffiest looking sod into a glittering peacock within mere minutes.

Severus snorted. “Not that you’d ever  _ let  _ me forget you, strutting around in such flamboyant colours and rich silks.”

Regulus laughed. “It definitely catches the eyes of the customers,” Regulus said with a laugh. “I’m sure mother is cursing over how well we’re doing.”

“A curse from her is a blessing to everyone else,” Lucius said, his lips curling into a distinctive look of disdain. 

“I’m just glad you weren’t anywhere near that place when dear old mum found out about our successful business venture,” Sirius said, “I’m sure she’s burning us off the family tapestry every night just to be sure.”

“Right after she finishes dying of mortification that her hero for pureblood supremacy died by flying into a storm and getting himself impaled by a tree and blown out to sea,” Regulus said, eyebrow raising.

Sirius grinned. “I  _ like  _ that picture. Oy, I got a postcard from Moony! He’s travelling the world learning how to connect to his inner wolf. Seems like it’s working. He hasn’t had to be in the hospital after a change in months.”

“Good on him,” Regulus said approvingly. “I’m glad his apprenticeship led to travelling opportunities. He was always a dreamer. Wanting to travel. Just be a normal bloke. He did so well with with Care of Magical Creatures, I think they are planning on asking him to come back and help teach once he’s finished travelling. It would be really good having him looking over all the creatures of Hogwarts, I think. There are so many more fantastic beasts living around here now, not even including our mutual friends.”

“I have  _ no  _ idea what you mean,” Hermione said as she and Fawkes hung feathered hair ornaments on the display rack, Fawkes using his beak to move them into place.

“I highly doubt that,” Regulus said, smiling.

Hermione chuckled. “Return the land to how it  _ should  _ be, and many other things return with it.”

“Always so cryptic,” Sirius bemoaned.

Regulus elbowed him in the ribs. “It feels good here, now,” he said. “Better than it ever was. I am so glad of that. Even the forest feels much lighter, and Hogwarts seems more of the beacon it was truly meant to be rather than just a school. I felt like I graduated at the right time— when things were good.”

“Pity our parents think we’re worse than scum,” Sirius said.

Lucius sighed. “Alas, people will always see what they  _ want  _ to see, and sometimes even the glaringly obvious can be ignored far easier than the subtle. Look at how Skeeter became so popular. Look how easily one of us could have walked right up and signed up to one Dark Lord, had the conditions been right and us just bitter enough, and blind enough.”

Regulus seemed to think on this. “Do you really see us becoming a part of something as terrible as that?”

Severus exchanged glances with Lucius. “I think we  _ all  _ have the potential to do the wrong thing for the reasons that we think are right. We can act in anger, impulse, or neutrality and with lack of forethought. Look at Lily. She was and is a rollercoaster of emotional conviction, but deep down she is truly not a bad person.”

“Even after what she did?” Sirius said. “I’m not sure if I could be so kind.”

Hermione wrapped her arms around Severus and snuggled into his back. “Well, not everything that came out of that was so bad.”

Severus purred, eyes sliding to the side to peer at his mate. “There  _ were  _ some positive outcomes.”

Hermione smiled. “People tend to forget that young people or even adults can be petty and selfish, not all the time, but sometimes. And magical people can make such times very dangerous. People take for granted that in magical families, that sort of thing gets stamped down very quickly, but what can a Muggle family do when their child has a magical temper tantrum? Sister? Brother? Any family? A young child is almost always easier to guide than a teen. Look at what so many of  _ us  _ did as teenagers and tell me that magic isn’t a wildcard for bad social choices.”

Sirius sighed. “True. Gods know Prongs and I— even  _ without  _ Peter’s help.”

“Speaking of Potter,” Severus muttered. “What is he getting his antlers stuck into  _ now _ ?”

Sirius had the decency to blush. “Erm…”

Severus’ eyes narrowed. 

Sirius flinched. “He and Lily are out on a real date.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Is that all?”

“Probablymorethanadate,” Sirius muttered into his navel.

Snape sighed, pulling out a galleon and handing it to his mate.

Hermione smiled, tucking it away with an aura of pure smugness.

Regulus nudged Severus. “What was that for?”

“She won the bet.”

“What bet?” Regulus looked crestfallen that he wasn’t included. 

Lucius sighed, passing Hermione a sack of coins. “I should know better than to bet against a phoenix.”

“Thank you, Lucius,” Hermione said with a grin.

“ **_What_ ** bet?!” Regulus whined.

Severus sighed. “She bet they wouldn’t be able to keep their hands off each other after that benefit for the abandoned squib and pregnant witches out of wedlock home. The irony there is very,  _ very  _ thick.”

Regulus, reading between the lines, eyed Lucius. “And why did you give her more coins than Severus?”

Lucius rolled his eyes. “She predicted someone wouldn’t be able to help spiking the punch and they would end up having to be married by morning to prevent two families from killing their children.”

Regulus and Severus seemed abruptly to realise something at the same time. Severus glowered at Sirius. “You  **_SPIKED_ ** the punch?!”

Sirius turned into a dog and fled as fast as his legs could carry him, and Severus zoomed after him, pecking every bit of flesh off the retreating dog’s bum that he could as he chased after him, then, as if for effect, he set himself on fire. Sirius yelped and ran out the shop’s door and down the street, dodging curious people all the way through Hogsmeade even as Regulus gave chase by broom yelling something about stuffing his brother into a shipping crate and sending him to the Netherlands to await the next violent windstorm.

Lucius took Hermione’s hand. “My lady, would you care to join me for lunch? I hear the Three Broomsticks is having a special on fruit salad.”

Hermione gave a polite curtsy. “But of course, Lucius. I would truly enjoy that.”

Fawkes and Imogen warbled in approval from the tree they were decorating. 

Lucius rolled his eyes. “Of course, you two are invited as well.”

* * *

 

“That is  _ totally  _ not fair,” Lily whinged even as she oogled over the eggs nestled in the nest. She rubbed her swollen belly with a discontented sigh. Fawkes and Imogen eyed Lily as they turned the eggs and sat back down on top of them. 

Hermione, chuckling, gave Severus a peck on the nose and smiled smugly.

“I get a big bump and horrible back pain with a chaser of extreme nausea every morning, and  _ you  _ get to just lay your eggs in a nest and wait.”

“Phoenixes share everything when it comes to chicks,” Ollivander said as he gave both Hermione and Severus hugs before lovingly helping to turn the eggs and settle them under Fawkes and Imogen so they were comfortable. “They must always be kept warm, sung to, taught their names, had their names woven into the Lineage, and to anchor themselves to a Time, all before they break the shell.”

Lily’s eyes went wide. “Oh,” she replied, obviously reconsidering if laying eggs was really easier or just more work.

“It takes an orchard,” Ollivander said as he hummed to the eggs in the nest, and they peeped back at him from inside their shells.

“Do you mean that as an actual orchard or the group of phoenixes?” Lily asked. 

“Why, yes,” Ollivander replied cryptically. 

Lily raised a brow as she rubbed her belly. 

“Humans are so endearing. They carry their children inside themselves for months. Some can’t seem to wait until their children fledge while others grieve the loss of them. So unpredictable,” Ollivander said. He gave a soft warble, and Lily felt her belly immediately.

“Ah! He  _ kicked! _ ”

Garrick smiled. “Perhaps he will be a flyer— as prone to be up in the skies as on the ground.”

“He better not!” Lily cried.

“Yes! A born Seeker!” James crowed at the same time. 

Lily glared at James, but James puffed up proudly. 

“At least **_I_ ** didn’t go elope with a flying biker witch from America,” James retorted. “Just think of what their child could look like. Maroon hair, dark brows, sultry lips, and a leather spiked dog collar. Gah- **_RUFF!_ ** ”

Lily rolled her eyes, and stomped away, muttering, “No child of  _ mine _ , and  _ you  _ get the couch, mister. You keep Sirius Black and his poor life choices out of this.”

James pouted, sprawling out on a nearby lounge chair. 

A muffled squeak came from underneath his posterior.

James immediately jumped up and frowned as a dark purple spider with golden spots staggered off the chair, seemingly drunk from the experience. “Sorry, little guy.” He scooped the spider up and gently rubbed its abdomen.

The spider puffed back into shape and squeaked, “Thanks!”

James sat down and cuddled the fluffy arachnid. “Guess it’s just you and me again, friend,” he said with a sigh. 

“If you’d stop provoking your wife, you’d be able to sleep in bed instead of on our lounge chair,” Severus said, one eyebrow cocked sharply.

“He just covets our spiders,” Hermione said with no little amusement, watching James tickle the spider.

“I do,” James said with a sad, mournful sound. “House elves are utterly ruined for me.”

“Lily still afraid of spiders?”

“Anything that crawls or looks like it could and anything with, and I quote, ‘too many legs,’ James replied, groaning.

“Babies crawl,” Regulus pointed out.

James shrugged. “The Wizengamot is still out on how  _ that  _ will go. Maybe if I can shrink them down to fit in my pocket—”

“We are  _ not  _ hosting you here for the rest of your life, Potter,” Severus snapped irritably.

James stuck out his bottom lip in a pout. “You’re no fun.”

Hermione leaned in, grinning wickedly. “Oh, I don’t know. We could have him chick-sit  _ forever _ .”

James flailed as the image of a hundred-some fluffy, peeping, ever-hungry phoenix chicks weighing him down flooded his mind.

“Argh!” he wailed, falling over in the chair, and the chair promptly turned into a guest bed, with enchanted bed linens and a duvet materialising and making themselves up on top of the wizard.

Regulus snorted a laugh into his hand.

“I hear Narcissa has passed her healer’s checkup with flying colours after she was so worried about a miscarriage last night,” Regulus said. 

“That is a great relief,” Severus said, nodding. “I know she was worried about her health due to her family’s rather poor history with regard to the treatment of their witches.”

“I think the Black family in general has a great deal to be ashamed about,” Regulus said darkly. 

Hermione shrugged. “It has a lot to be proud of too, Regulus. You and your brother fought against a particularly terrifying kind of possession, against your own family’s antiquated views, and against your peers to put an end to a war against an invisible menace. That’s not a small thing. Just as you said before, all of you could have ended up Death Eaters, enslaved to a twisted Dark Lord and his war against… everyone.”

Regulus tilted his head. “You do have a way of putting things into perspective, my Lady.”

Hermione snorted. “Hermione, please. We are all friends here. Even  _ him _ —” She pointed to the lump on her guest bed.

“I heard that!” came a muffled protest as a spider chewed its way out of the linens and then mended it back up whole, skittering away. 

“Male or female do you think?” Regulus speculated. “Lucius would adore a son, but— I cannot help but think Narcissa would be delighted with a little daughter to dote on.”

Severus and Hermione exchanged glances, perhaps worried what was okay to say with so many outcomes in the Timestreams.

“Why not both?” Ollivander asked idly, walking by as he munched on an Asian pear. Fawkes and Imogen warbled jealously, staring at Garrick’s fruit with clear longing.

Regulus, Hermione, and Severus stared at the elder phoenix, jaws dropped a little. 

There was a knock at the door before Lucius drifted in, his face a little paler than usual as he dropped down into one of the seats and let out a long, shuddering breath.

“Lucius?” Severus asked, looking concerned. 

“I may have miscalculated,” he finally said.

“Is something wrong with the store?” Regulus asked. “Do we need to order more—”

Lucius stopped him with a hand. “No, the store is fine.” He shifted, trying to get comfortable.

“You know how my family, the Malfoys that is, have struggled with successfully having children,” he said.

“Much like most of the Blacks, though you wouldn’t know that by my parents or even Narcissa’s branch of the tree,” Regulus said.

Lucius rubbed his head. “Our family normally uses a family potion we brew when we are to, erm, bed our wives,” he said. “We keep brewing it until we have a firstborn child and then the rest we leave up to fate.”

Severus arched a brow. “You never mentioned this before.”

Lucius sighed. “It is a secret thing. Our family does not like to admit that we have any issues with having children, and even less do our males like to admit that they require— assistance in this area.”

Severus raised his brows but nodded.

“Well, I did not consider the rather startling degree of difference between moondew and sundew from the recipe,” Lucius said. “I collected it at dawn so it could brew during the day and be finished by that night.”

Severus’ eyes widened. “So it was neither sun or moon dew, it was  _ both _ .”

Lucius winced. “I wasn’t worried until Narcissa had such pains and worried about miscarriage—”

“Is she well?” Regulus asked, worried.

Lucius winced. “As well as any witch would be with the news that she’s having  _ triplets _ .”

Regulus and Severus sat down hard.

Hermione grinned from ear-to-ear. “Congratulations, Lucius!”

Fawkes and Imogen warbled  _ Brahms’ Lullaby _ , filling the room with joy and celebration, while Lucius continued to look quite pale and rather frightened of what the future might bring.

* * *

 

**_Baby Boom Hits St Mungo’s_ **

 

_ The waiting room in the Witch’s Health Clinic adjacent to St Mungo’s was working overtime this year as a great many magical couples seemed to synchronise the timing of their births, breaking a record of deliveries all within the last few months. Overworked midwife witches as well as delivery medi-witches have been and are still in overwhelming demand.  _

_ A record number of births have been recorded, and even Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is wisely planning ahead for what will happen in eleven years to accommodate what will be a sharp rise in their number of students. As for the following years, we can only guess as to the continuing impact on our magical schools as many couples decide if it’s finally safe to have a family. _

* * *

 

“Mum!” a pale-faced but radiantly orange, red, and yellow feather-haired child pounced her mother and rubbed noses with her.

“Well, hello, Aithne,” Hermione said with a laugh. “Are you ready for your big day?”

“We were born ready!” her brother crowed, his black feather-hair with a small crest of white rose and fell like in his phoenix form. 

“Aaden, you broke out of your shell ready to take on the world. I think you get it from Imogen.”

Imogen warbled approval from Severus’ shoulder as the basilisk hissed theirs from around Hermione and Severus’ necks.

“And where are Hala and Rivin?”

Her two children pointed over to where three bright and blindingly blond heads were gathered with a pile of moving trunks. 

One girl, her hair a mass of moonbeam curls and feathers, was helping the triplets make sure all their books were bundled “properly” as her brother was grinning at the cages for the familiars. Each of the Malfoy children had disgustingly pristine familiars—a grey owl, a pure white half-Kneazle, and light gold and white barn owl.

Severus rolled his eyes as Lucius approached. “You spoil them silly.”

“I was not the one to purchase them,” Lucius said. “That was Narcissa.”

Hermione laughed. “Either way, you probably have the most pristine-looking familiars on the planet.”

Garrick rubbed his chin. “Familiars choose the witch and wizard, much as wands do— at least the ones that truly  _ are  _ familiars rather than just pets. I fear the children do not always know the difference.”

Severus tilted his head. “Hn.”

Hermione smiled. “Well, at least Minerva has worked into the Board that familiars chose the witch and wizard, so those with verified familiar bonds can be permitted at the school. I’m just glad Dumbledore agreed to it.”

“Thank the gods she specified  _ verified _ —” Severus muttered. “Can you imagine any eleven-year-old picking something stupidly uncontrolled and calling it their familiar?”

Hermione tilted her head. “To be fair. Felines and owls have been standard for centuries. Not sure where the toad came from though. Considering they live 10-12 years for a common toad, 15 for a cane toad, and maybe fifty years or so in Muggle captivity where their every need is taken care of with no stress. Even then, they aren’t like felines that sense what you need or owls even.”

“Teenagers… stress… “ Severus shook head. “And you can stop spouting random toad facts, if you please.”

Hermione grinned. 

Lucius chuckled, pressing his lips to Hermione’s knuckles. “My darling wife has invited you all to lunch. For us to celebrate a much quieter house until the holidays and for you to at least celebrate they will be living in quarters not shared by you for at least part of the year.”

Hermione laughed. “How could we not accept such gracious invitation?”

“Harry James Potter, you put that fire out right now, young man!”

“I didn’t do it, mum! It was  **_him!_ ** ”

A wide-eyed carrot-top child stared up at Lily, petrified.

“Ah, Lily,” Severus said, eyes sliding to the side as his lips puckered. “Striking fear into the hearts of children by the sheer decibel range of her voice.”

“I think she gets that from hanging out with Molly Weasley, to be fair,” Hermione noted. “They’ve become fast friends in repopulating the Wizarding world.”

“Three is  _ quite  _ enough for me,” Lucius said with a sniff. “We have no plans for more.”

“Planning rarely had anything to do with it,” Garrick noted, causing the tall blond wizard to flush.

“I am greatly happy that phoenixes share nesting responsibilities and the chicks, do not feel that we love them any less,” Hermione said with a chuckle.

“We simply have much love to spare,” Garrick said sagely. 

“Love is all fine and well,” Lucius noted, “but the triplets almost burned down half the estate with their temper tantrums.”

“Glorious,” Severus stated. “I look forward to seeing them all in detention, Lucius.”

Lucius slumped. “Please  _ do  _ try to restrain yourself on the first night, at least.”

Severus narrowed his eyes. “We shall see.”

Hermione snorted and poked Severus. “Speaking of setting things on fire, you  _ did  _ tell Sirius and Regulus not to burn the business down while the children were being seen off?”

“I don’t worry about them quite as much anymore,” Severus said, “not nearly as much as their children.”

_ They need more phoenixes around to peck them into proper shape, _ Imogen said, fluffing her feathers out into a puff before soothing them back down.

“Contrary to popular belief, child,” Garrick said, rubbing his finger along Imogen’s beak. “Phoenixes are not the solution to everything.”

_ Lots of things, _ Imogen said, looking away, refusing to be wrong.

Fawkes pecked her, and they both chased each other around for a few minutes before deciding to help the children with their luggage hauling.

Severus looked with  concern to where Lily and James were standing, surrounded by a disturbing collection of mop-haired children ranging from flaming red to black. All of them seemed to defy the rules of genetics and gave them all those same piercing green eyes and their father’s facial structure. 

Molly’s gaggle had already dissipated, her elder sons having tromped onto the train like practiced professionals. Having survived Molly’s tongue lashing, the youngest school-aged Weasley was dragging his own stuff onto the train with Harry Potter’s help. 

“Mam is going to have her hands full,” Hermione said, frowning. “Hogwarts is going to need to expand just for the children boom.”

“She should let Albus actually do his job,” Severus muttered. “Since he is the one actually getting paid for it.”

Hermione leaned into her mate. “Don’t be a grump, love.”

Severus muttered something that might have been a verbal thundercloud trapped in a jar.

Hermione wrapped her arms around his slim waist from the back, snuggling into him, and the scowl on Severus’ face melted away.

_ “I love you,”  _ she sang into the Timestreams.

Severus looked at his children sitting in the train car, all of them waving as the train took off. He turned and gathered Hermione into his arms and held her tightly. “And I you, my love,” he sang as their glamours fell away, if but for a moment, in a rush of heat and feathers. He placed his palm to her face as he watched a small trickle of her tears flow down her cheek. He gently pressed a crystal vial to her cheek, capturing the tears of his happy mate. “Always.”

As the Hogwarts Express disappeared into the distance, Fawkes and Imogen flew over the train, singing joyous songs together, filling every heart within with the shared joy of life.

_ A large clutter of Aerie spiders draw the curtains closed. _

* * *

 

**_Fin._ **

* * *

 

**A/N:** It’s been a while since this one was started, but here lies the end… and the beginning of a new life for characters. Many thanks to my ever loyal betas, The Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01, and the Flyby Commander Shepard, who poke my squirrel-obsessed brain and drag it back on track in the midst of my mental thunderstorm and life. Despite all the distra- **_SQUIRREL!_ **

 

 


End file.
